That Future Thing
by Hot Monkey Brain
Summary: Challenge fic. Kyle and Stan find themselves transported to a future torn apart by war. Time is fast running out for South Park, but can a handful of Resistance fighters really make a difference? Complete!
1. Chapter 1

**Author Note: **Much as I'd like to take credit for the idea behind this story, unfortunately I can't - the plot came from a challenge posted by Call Me Blue Streak. It's also my first ever South Park story and I'd be grateful to know where I'm going wrong (or where I'm going right for that matter) and if I start veering into OOC-ness. Enjoy!

**&**

"Jeez, I don't know about this Eric. If my parents find out, they're gonna be awful sore... I mean, they'll probably ground me..."

Butters trailed off, hoping that Cartman would take the hint and decide to call off whatever plan he had this time. Not that there _was _much hope of that, his timid protestations had never worked in the past and the other boy didn't even seem to be listening to him, concentrating instead on his destination – where ever _that_ was.

"Eric? Um, where we going?"

Cartman turned his head, resting a finger against his lips to indicate quiet and using a tree to hide behind. Butters looked around nervously, but saw no one that might be close enough to overhear them and put it down to paranoia on Eric's behalf. That was a bad sign. That meant he was planning something that could get them into trouble. Not that _Eric_ ever seemed to get into much trouble; it was Butters who got the brunt of any punishment.

"Did you see that movie last night?" asked Cartman in a low voice.

Butters shook his head.

Cartman smirked. "There was this hot British chick who was really Satan and..."

"Uh, Satan's not a chick," interrupted Butters. "I met him and he's big and red and he smells kinda funny..."

"Shut up Butters!" yelled Cartman. Butters promptly stopped talking and a moment later, Cartman resumed his speech.

"_Anyway_, she gave this guy seven wishes and he could be all rich and powerful and stuff – and all he had to do was sell her his soul! And if _we_ could track down Satan and get the same deal, it'd be totally sweet!"

Butters widened his eyes in horror. "I don't wanna sell my soul Eric! My parents'd ground me for sure!"

"Don't you get it Butters? They couldn't ground you, coz you'd just use a wish to make sure they never ground you again!"

That idea was certainly tempting, but Butters could see more flaws in Cartman's plan. "We'd have to give Satan our souls and that means we'd have to live in Hell forever and my parents would be all pissed off if I went to Hell..."

"That's the great part!" Cartman grinned widely, clearly pleased with himself. "You can get your soul _back_ if you use your last wish to do something unselfish! So we use the wishes to have some real fun then, on our deathbeds, just ask for world peace and we don't have to go to Hell!"

"Jeez, I don't know Eric..."

"Look Butters, nothing can go wrong, I _promise._ This is a totally foolproof plan. Just let me do all the talking."

Fidgeting nervously, Butters murmured, "I don't think Satan's gonna be hanging around South Park. Probably we'll never see him again."

"Nah, he comes by to play chess with Jesus or something," replied Cartman, incorrectly as it happened. Satan played chess with God on occasion, but Jesus found it pretty boring and tended to break out a game of Twister when the Devil showed up. "But we can't hang out outside Jesus' place forever, he barely even goes there anymore and he'll know our plan. I have a better idea."

Peering around the tree, Cartman indicated to something and Butters glanced around his ample frame to see what was of interest. At first he saw nothing but a somewhat run-down house, then the door slammed open and a child emerged. A familiar looking child, protected from the perpetual Colorado cold by an orange parka.

Cartman gave an unpleasant grin and Butters began to wish he'd been grounded that morning.

**&**

Two weeks before, Stan had come up with the idea of heading to the outskirts of town to practise their sledding. Previously they had used four person sleds and raced against another team, but that was before he had discovered that an upturned trashcan lid would fit one kid comfortably and went ridiculously fast. Controlling it once it got some speed going was almost impossible and usually, the easiest way to stop was to bail out at the end of the hill. It beat the hell out of ice skating and most days he and Kyle could be found trying to out-do each other (and see who could stay on the longest before tipping over). Kenny was usually there too and Cartman, even thought the fat kid usually complained about it – on a traditional sled his weight was an asset, but not in this game. Butters had tried it once and screamed all the way down, to the amusement of all, and ever since had been content to merely watch.

But that day, it was Stan and Kyle alone. Kenny had said he would be there but had not yet shown and they hadn't heard one way or the other from Cartman or Butters. Not that it was any big deal; on a Saturday they pretty much kept their own time and it was still early.

Stan flew down the hill on the trashcan lid, hanging on to the edges and trying to steer, without much success. Spying something partly hidden in the snow ahead, he attempted to swerve, leaned too hard and spilled off the lid, hitting the snow face-first. Kyle wasn't so lucky, being only a couple of seconds behind Stan but not seeing the object until the lid hit it and he flew forward off the lid, hitting the ground and making an impressive skid mark in the snow.

Stan was first to his feet, going over and pulling the object out of the snow, an abandoned bicycle. "Huh, guess someone ditched it here."

Kyle sat up, brushing snow powder from his jacket and gloves. _"You bastards!"_

"Dude, don't you think you're overreacting just a little?"

Shrugging, Kyle retrieved his trashcan lid and examined it. There was a small dent in the riim, but nothing that would prevent him from using it again. "I would totally have beat you that time."

"Nuh-uh!"

"Uh-huh!"

"Nuh-uh!"

"Uh-huh!"

"Only one way to prove it."

"Rematch?"

"Rematch."

Both boys took their lids and trailed back up the slope, stlll bickering good-naturedly, the bicycle that had brought the race to a sudden end tossed to one side and forgotten about. Getting to the top, they balanced the lids and carefully scooted into them – it was easy to set them into a slide before one was ready and that situation never had a happy ending, as both boys could attest to.

Kyle grinned, hands resting on the snow beside him ready to push the lid forward. "Ready?"

Stan nodded. "Ready!"

"Set – GO!"

With a push, both boys sent the lids down the hill. But Stan had put more strength into his left arm and the lid immediately went sideways. Trying to straighten it up without falling off meant instead of a smooth downward ride, he was sliding from side to side. Kyle meanwhile, was going in a straight line and had taken the lead.

Finally getting on course, Stan resigned himself to losing this particular race, reminding himself that he was still technically ahead after winning the most races this week. Looking at the hill, he saw Kyle speeding down and hanging on to his lid for dear life, the end of the slope rapidly approaching...

...And then the snow at the foot of the slope began to move.

To Stan, it looked like something erupting from the ground, throwing snow in all directions, directly in his path – in _their_ path.

"_Kyle!"_

Either hearing the alarm in Stan's voice or seeing what was happening for himself, Kyle tumbled off the trashcan lid and landed heavily in the snow. Stan had time to see that the snow did not seem to be falling back to the ground as he did likewise, noticing that the combined flakes seemed to be clumped together in the air; then he laded on his back and for a few seconds lost sight of what was going on, seeing only the sky above him. Sitting up hurriedly, he looked back, expecting to see some giant creature having burst from the ground like something from a horror film, twenty feet tall with dripping fangs and an insatiable hunger for human flesh.

There was no creature. That made it somehow worse.

The snow had risen into a solid wall before them, pulling up from the ground like a living entity instead of individual drops of frozen water, cutting off their exit. For a moment both boys gaped at the sight, completely at a loss.

Then the wall began to move forward.

Kyle, closest to it, turned and ran as it made its way toward him, yelling something at Stan that the other boy didn't hear, rendered immobile by the phenomenon. He continued to just stare until Kyle drew level with him, grabbed his hand and dragged him away.

Finally, Stan managed to tear his eyes from the wall and run. "What the hell _is _that?"

"I don't know!" Kyle risked a glance over his shoulder. "Oh shit..."

Stan looked back to and realised two things; the snow wall had gained on them to the extent that it was inches behind them – and there was no way they were going to outrun it.

_This is so weak,_ he thought to himself in the seconds before the wall collapsed, burying them both on the slope under an impenetrable mound of snow.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author Note: **Thanks to kirstyy26 and Call Me Blue Streak for the nice reviews! And a li'l FYI for all readers; most of the ambiguity and questions raised in this chapter will be answered in the next - which may not be up for a week or so, since I'm moving outta my cramped pad and I have no idea when the internet will be switched on. Hopefully in a coupla days, but knowing my luck at the moment, something will go awry. Well, enjoy! And let me know what is good and what needs to be worked on.

**&**

Kyle's first thought was of the cold.

He was freezing, feeling as if the perpetual Colorado chill had seeped through his clothes and sank into his bones. His entire body was numb and just inhaling seemed to take more of the cold out of the air and transfer it to his lungs.

His second thought was that it was hard to breathe. He didn't seem to be taking in enough oxygen and trying to breathe deeper hurt his chest.

His third thought was that he didn't know where he was or how he had got there. His fourth thought was that his third thought should have been his first thought.

Belatedly, he opened his eyes and took stock. He was lying on his side in a snowdrift, clothes stiff with ice. It was dark and that confused him momentarily; had he been lying there long? Thinking back, the last thing he remembered was sliding down a hill on a trashcan lid and then... something had happened.

And where the hell was Stan? He'd been there too.

Sitting up with some difficulty thanks to his inexplicably stuff limbs, he rubbed his eyes, which felt puffy and tired, looking around...

And realising that something was very, very wrong.

"Jesus _Christ_!"

The slope they had been sliding down had been away from the main art of South Park, but there had been a row of houses rooftops visible, some trees dotted about and of course, the slope they had been playing on. Now looking out, Kyle could see that the rooftops ended abruptly and the remaining ones seemed crumbling and ruined. The snow was patchy and melted, the one remaining tree listing to the side as if hit by something heavy.

Becoming aware of heat warming his back, Kyle looked over his shoulder and gasped. The hill they had been sliding down had been hit by something – a bomb perhaps – and blown apart. The flames were still crackling but not for much longer; there was not enough fuel for the fire to feed on. Still, the heat remaining was helping him recover slightly; bringing his formerly numb limbs back to life in a painful clutch of pins and needles.

Getting to his feet, Kyle edged closer to the fire and spent a moment or so getting slightly warmer, trying to come to terms with what he was seeing. It seemed impossible; in his last memories it had been broad daylight and he and Stan had been – hey, where the hell was Stan anyway?

Looking around, Kyle spotted something some distance away, a lump in the snow that seemed to be stirring slightly. He made his way over to it quickly and found it was indeed Stan, coming to slowly.

"Stan?"

"Kyle? What happened?"

Kyle grabbed Stan's hand and pulled him to his feet, noticing that the other boy's teeth were chattering with cold. "I don't know! I don't remember anything!"

Stan looked around and noticed the burning slope. "Holy shit dude!"

"We gotta get home," Said Kyle urgently. "We gotta find out what's going on!"

"Just a second," said Stan, nearing the dying fire. "I gotta warm up, I can't feel my hands – were we really chased by snow?"

Kyle shot him a blank look. "Chased by snow?"

"Yeah! We were sledding and then the snow chased us..." Stan trailed off and frowned. The memory made no sense at all; perhaps he had hit his head. He had certainly been out of things for a while.

Before he could try to make any more sense of the jumbled recollections, the relative quiet was shattered by gunfire. Both boys looked over toward the houses in alarm, it was not a sound that was heard often in South Park, except during hunting trips – and this hadn't sounded much like rifles.

The shots were followed by shouts from close by, the words impossible to make out but the tone unmistakably angry. There was a pause, then a second shout, closer this time.

"They're heading this way!" Stan looked around frantically. "We gotta hide!"

"Where?" asked Kyle. There was no cover, just the churned-up earth and smouldering remains of the hill, the flames almost extinguished.

"Here!" Stan ducked behind the hill, treading carefully as the ground was still hot, Kyle following suit and hoping that the poor cover was good enough. The heat from the extinguished fire was certainly welcome; both were still far too cold. And without the light from the flames, the area was darker than it should have been. There was no light coming from the direction of town, as if the whole place was suffering a power cut.

"He went this way!" An unmistakably male voice shouted, closer than they would have liked.

"What the fuck is going on?" Stan whispered.

"I dunno, but I don't want those guys to find us," Kyle hissed back. "We'll wait 'til they leave, then go home. My mom's gonna be seriously pissed."

"Maybe it's okay. Maybe they're out looking for us."

"They have guns and bombs! You want them to _find_ us?"

"...Good point."

"Shhh!"

They both heard the sound; footsteps hurrying in their direction, apparently trying to be quiet but not succeeding very well. It seemed to be only one person and Stan risked peering out from their hiding place to make sure that they weren't about to be discovered, trusting the darkness to hide him.

The darkness meant that he couldn't see anyone at first, then he realised something was moving and allowed his eyes to adjust. A tall figure was heading toward their hiding place, sneaking backward looks, presumably watching out for pursuit. Stan figured them to be about six foot, probably a man in that case, but that was all he _could _tell. The figure was dressed all in black, head covered by a hood. He didn't seem interested in their hiding place, intent on creeping past. Kyle glanced over Stan's shoulder, trying to get a look at what was happening.

A light suddenly clicked on, probably from a flashlight, catching the man in its glare. He froze for a moment, glancing behind him.

_He's here!" _bellowed a voice from someone Stan couldn't see. "Over..."

The man turned, the gun that had previously been hidden from Stan's view being raised. He pulled the trigger and shots rang out, cutting off the voice mid-sentence.

"Holy shit!"

"Jesus Christ!"

The man glanced over at them, startled, aiming his gun at them. Both boys, realising they had attracted attention at exactly the wrong moment, screamed in unison.

The man took a good look at them and lowered his gun slightly, but the suspicion didn't leave his eyes. Stan and Kyle raised their hands to indicate surrender, neither really wanting to get shot in the head.

There was a loud noise in the distance; more people chasing the man in black. Glancing over his shoulder, he lowered the gun and indicated for them to follow him.

"Oh no, we're not going anywhere," said Stan. "We don't wanna be hostages!"

The man shouted through his hood and both boys yelled in alarm, running in the direction the man had pointed in. The man followed, fumbling in his belt for something and coming up with a grenade. Glancing over their shoulders, Stan and Kyle both stopped at the sight as finally, the pursuers came into view.

_Soldiers_, thought Kyle distractedly, although not from the army he was used to. Dressed in what looked to be blue and white uniforms, they also wore helmets and both could see the alarming array of weapons the group of four held.

The man growled something very uncomplimentary and hurled the grenade into their midst, shouting at the boys to run. Deciding that wasn't bad advice, they did so and therefore missed the soldiers trying to get out of the way of the grenade before it went off, and the subsequent explosion. But they heard it, felt the rush of hot air and redoubled their efforts.

Eventually, the man gave a sharp order at them to stop and they did so. Kyle was grateful, he hadn't been sure he could run any further after waking in the snow in the middle of a war zone. But that gratitude was quickly being replaced by confusion and anger. He had no idea what was going on, but he was damned if he was going anywhere further with the crazy man with all the firepower until he got some answers.

Without even looking around to see where they had ended up, he let anger take over.

"What the fuck is going on?" he demanded, disturbing the man who had been looking cautiously around the area, probably checking for more soldiers. "Where did the soldiers come from? Why are you blowing up South Park?"

The man looked back at him, nothing visible but his eyes, which were wide with surprise.

"Uh Kyle..."

Kyle didn't even notice how subdued Stan's voice was. "And who the hell are you anyway? What's going on?"

"Kyle."

"And what..."

"_Kyle!"_

Kyle paused, still mad but finally realising that Stan didn't seem quite as outraged as he was.

"Check it out." Stan pointed at something in the distance and Kyle finally took a good look at the view and forgot everything he had been about to say.

From their vantage point, they could see several of South Park's streets and should have seen the houses with lights in the windows, driveways cleared of snow and possibly a few people wandering the area. Instead, the houses had been all but demolished, some reduced to piles of rubble, others damaged and barely standing. None of them had escaped the destruction that seemed to have been wrought upon them. The streets were dark and deserted, no sign of life anywhere. And there was no noise – no distant music from an open window, no traffic noises, not even a barking dog or passing bird. It was eerie.

"Whoa," said Kyle softly. "What _happened_?"

Stan shook his head, both of them ignoring the man, who had wandered a short distance away and was talking rapidly into a radio. "I don't know dude... but our homes are down there, our _families_... where will we go?"

There was a snort from behind them as the man finished talking into the radio and they turned to him as he shoved it into a pocket. He'd pulled down the hood of the black outfit to speak unmuffled and both boys gaped, recognising him – yet unable to believe that it could possibly be who he seemed to be.

Not a man after all, a boy in his late teens but tall and slightly underweight. He glared at them both, pushing messy, overgrown blonde hair out of his face. "Question is, where the hell have you _been_?"

Stan blinked. "This is pretty fucked up right here."


	3. Chapter 3

**Author Note: **Thanks to Saundersfamily007 for reviewing! And its later than expected (I knew the internet would not be turned on when it should be, I just knew it) due to circumstances beyond my control (mostly), my apologies! Let me know how you feel about the story by hitting the review button and giving it thumbs up, thumbs down or thumb off, whichever is most appropriate :)

**&&&**

Kyle stared at the teenager. _"Kenny?"_

"No way," said Stan before the teenager could reply. "We just saw Kenny yesterday and he was the same age as us – it's his brother, gotta be"

"He doesn't look like Kenny's _brother_."

"Shit, will you two shut up?" The teen sighed and seemed to come to a decision. "Come on. You'll have to come back to base with me, you can't just stay out here."

"Wait!" Kyle kept staring at the teenager. "Are you – I mean _really_? _Are_ you Kenny?"

The boy had already pulled the black hood around his head, but he stopped long enough to nod the affirmative to the question. Then he took off quickly, expecting the two to keep up with him.

"That can't be Kenny," whispered Stan as they hurried after the blonde. "He _aged_! I mean, what _happened_ to him?"

Kyle's face was grim. "I don't think anything did. I think something happened to _us_."

**&&&**

The West side of South Park was almost totally demolished from what Stan and Kyle could see. What might once have been houses were now ruins, debris lay scattered in the road and the asphalt had been churned up and destroyed. Neither boy had realised just how dark it could be without the street lights and it was hard not to stumble over the mess lying around.

Kenny led them through all this as if he'd made the journey numerous times before, not speaking, keeping a careful eye on the area around them as if he expected them to be intercepted at any moment. Eventually they came to a doorway which might once have led into a factory or similarly large building, but now the doorway was almost all that stood. Beyond it was still more rubble of a fallen building, indicating that not much could live there. Yet it was the place that Kenny chose to pause.

He leaned in through the door to nothing, pressing his hand against part of the wall that supported the doorway. Immediately, the ground yawned open, revealing a huge trapdoor leading into the ground, steps leading downwards. Kenny headed to them, indicating for them to follow.

"Won't those soldiers find us down here?" asked Kyle.

Kenny answered briefly.

"But how do you _know_?"

The next response was even more terse.

"Okay dude, whatever."

Stan looked up as they started down the steps, realising the trap door had slid shut above them as silently as it had opened. "Kenny... what happened? Was it a war?"

The teen ahead of them muttered.

"But what caused it? The Iraqis?"

The answer was negative.

"Russians?"

Nope.

"Terrorists?"

No.

"Aliens?"

Wrong.

"Rampaging hoards of flesh-eating zombies?"

No.

"Cartman?"

The pause that followed this was too long to be anything but an affirmative.

"Cartman?" Stan couldn't quite believe it.

Kyle however could and clenched his fists. "Son of a _bitch_"

Kenny had by now reached the foot of the stairs, where there was a computer reader of some sort. Kenny rested his hand against it and a moment later, half the stone wall swung aside to reveal another corridor.

"Welcome Kenny," said a computerised female voice that creeped both Stan and Kyle out a little. In spite of that, they followed Kenny through the wall, into the new corridor.

This was definitely not like anywhere they had been so far that night.

The corridor was short, leading out into a large room that seemed to be filled with people. A large screen took up one wall, although it was currently white and blank. There was a lot of noise and activity going on and for a few moments, the two boys couldn't take it in.

"Kenny!" A girl approached them – well, a woman. Most definitely female. The three or four strips of leather she wore didn't do much to disguise her essential femininity. If anything, they drew attention to it.

"Holy shit," murmured Kyle. Stan didn't say anything. He felt rather like he was about to be sick.

The woman grabbed Kenny by his upper arms and he chuckled, sounding surprisingly like the Kenny they knew. There was an obvious filthy thought going on underneath that hood. "How did it go?"

Kenny's answer was longer than anything he had yet said to either Stan or Kyle, but wasn't necessarily encouraging. The woman's face dropped. "How heavily guarded?"

Kenny reiterated his point and she sighed, but was obviously trying to look on the bright side. "Well, we can..."

"Kenny!"

"Kenny's back!"

"Hi Kenny!"

Stan and Kyle blinked as three more girls ran up to them. Girls who were identical to the first girl. Any differences would have been revealed in those outfits, but they seemed to be indistinguishable.

Kenny was obviously enjoying the attention, but he shot the two boys a look and reluctantly disengaged himself from the women, muttering how he had something to do. He walked through the room and for the first time, Stan and Kyle realised that _everyone_ in the room seemed to be identical to the first girl. A room full of semi-naked chicks. No wonder Kenny looked so smug.

"Maybe we should stay here," said Stan, checking out the view.

"Yeah, we really should," added Kyle quickly.

Kenny growled something and the pair had to leave the main room and into another corridor. Both were trying to stare behind them and therefore barely noticed when Kenny spied another man and dragged him over to them.

The man listened to Kenny's agitated explanations, occasionally looking at Stan and Kyle, who were both more interested in the room they had just left behind. "I see," he murmured eventually. "Boys, you need to come with me."

"What really?" Stan was disappointed, he had quite a good view from where he was standing.

"Really." He pulled open a door and hustled the young boys into the room beyond, Kenny following.

For the first time, Stan and Kyle looked properly at the man and recognised him. Kyle gasped. "Mephisto!"!"

The scientist nodded. "Yes. When the initial wave of destruction hit South Park, I was working in my lab. Thanks to the precautions I took to keep some of my specimens within it, I was protected."

"Wait, wait." Stan raised his hands in confusion. "Wave of destruction? What the hell _happened_ here."

Mephisto frowned. "No one quite knows what happened. We heard some rumours, but all we know for sure is that Eric Cartman somehow managed to acquire enough power to take over South Park, then the whole of Colorado within a few months. His forces are not far away from taking over the whole country – it's only a matter of time."

Stan and Kyle exchanged looks and Kyle rolled his eyes. "Actually – that doesn't surprise me."

"Anyone who might have been able to stand against him vanished before he even made his first move," continued Mephisto.

"Dude!" shouted Stan.

Kyle looked at him "What?"

"The snow!"

"Huh?"

"There was a big wall of snow coming at us! And if Cartman got to do anything he wanted to South Park – who do you think he'd want out of the way?"

"Me," replied Kyle immediately. "Then anyone who'd try to stop him..."

"Right!" Stan slammed a fist into the table. "He _buried_ us in snow! And we got froze and then somehow got unfroze..."

Kenny pulled his hood down and looked sheepish. "Uh, that might be my fault. I was trying to make a distraction and I blew up that hill..."

"The one we were sledding down!" Stan stood, the chair flying out behind him. "It all makes sense!"

Kyle frowned. "Actually it doesn't."

"Well, more sense than anything else!"

"We're frozen people? Like Steve?"

"Gorak!"

"Whatever dude! That's not important right now." Kyle slammed his fist into the table. "Does anyone know _how_ Cartman managed to do all this?"

"Struck some kind of deal with Satan," said Kenny promptly.

"Well that's just great," snapped Stan. "How did fat-ass even manage to do something like that? It's not like Satan just walks around South Park... anymore."

"No idea," replied Kenny, studiously looking in another direction so as not to make eye contact and changing the subject in a hurry. "Um, all the survivors were gathered up and came here. Cartman doesn't know where it is. You'll be safe hiding out down here and the others'll be around somewhere."

Kyle noticed the evasiveness and raised an eyebrow, but Stan cut in first. "Um, can we ask a couple of questions? Like, why there are twenty-seven identical half-naked girls running around?"

Mephisto looked proud. "The Kelly's? They're clones. We needed to build an army to fight Cartman's forces and there just aren't enough of us without the clones. I designed them to be superior fighters..."

"And athletes," added Kenny with a happy grin.

"Although I'm sure they'd benefit from some more asses."

"It's not more _asses_ that'd help." Kenny remembered his underage audience and tried to knock the lecherous look off his face. "Anyway, you know what he said about adding body parts to them."

"How long have we been frozen for?" Kyle interrupted.

Mephisto looked at the ceiling, doing the maths. "Cartman must have taken over South Park about nine years ago."

"I'm eighteen," agreed Kenny. "So that'd be about right."

"Nine _years_?" Kyle stood up suddenly, pissed off. "That fat-ass has been running the town and fighting the world for _nine years_ and there isn't _anyone_ who can stop him?"

Mephisto and Kenny exchanged cautious looks. "There's only one person with powers comparable to Cartman," said Mephisto.

"They both made a deal with Satan," added Kenny. "He's the one that gathered the survivors and he's the reason behind the sweet ultra-high-tech hideout. But he's not quite as, um, crafty as the fat-ass is."

"And it sounds like he's heading this way," said Mephisto as there was a sudden rise in the volume of female voices outside the room and the tread of heavy footsteps. Very heavy footsteps.

Kenny rolled his eyes. "Oh boy. I dunno if he's gonna be pleased or pissed about this."

The door crashed open, denting the wall. The entrance was six and a half feet tall, but the man still had to bend to enter, his head brushing the top of the door and loosening a distracting – and detracting – shower of plaster chips. Once inside, he drew himself to his full height and folded his arms, glaring haughtily at the group.

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closing in disbelief. "Just when you think things just can't get any worse. The only person in the whole world who can do _anything _to stop the fat ass and it just _had_ to be..."

Kyle elbowed him in the side hurriedly, having noticed the sheer size of the newcomer and the unamused expression and realising that they had better show a little respect, for now at least. But he couldn't bring himself to think any differently than Stan did. "It just _had_ to be Professor Chaos."


	4. Chapter 4

**Author Note: **I can only apologise for how long it took for this chapter to arrive - Christmas was frantic (but I had the worlds coolest tree; black with my homemade Kenny Angel on the top, ha ha!) and the brand spanking new... um, cheapest computer in the pawn shop that I treated myself to really dislikes saving my work, so I wrote the end of this chapter like, three times. The next chapter should be here far quicker; I already wrote so much that I'm gonna have to split it into two.

Many thanks to Saundersfamily2007, thequillofdestiny and Loozje for the reviews! And to thequillofdestiny (again!) and Kusege-chan for reviewing my one shot (there should be an update there soon, although I might have to save the Christmas-themed one until next year. Dammit!

**&*&*&*&**

Professor Chaos folded his arms, face stony. Kyle and Stan regarded him with some alarm. The man had to be seven foot tall, with exaggerated muscles that made him look like a professional wrestler. Although his clothes resembled the hand-made outfit from childhood, the fabrics were clearly of quality and the helmet made from actual metal rather than tinfoil. Behind the mask, his blue eyes were devoid of anything that reminded them of their irritating but well-intentioned classmate.

As he stared at them, Professor Chaos drew his brows together in a frown of puzzlement, then recognition dawned on his face. All of a sudden, the stoic exterior broke slightly and the man began to smile, his eyes losing their coldness and expressing genuine pleasure to see them.

"F-fellas?"

For a second, they could all see the boy he had been nine years before, the kid who had always been glad to see them even when the feeling wasn't mutual, who had struggled to gain acceptance without much luck. Just for a moment.

Then the moment was gone and Professor Chaos turned to glare at Kenny, dropping his hands to his sides and clenching them into fists. For a moment, it looked like he was going to hit the boy and that would have been unpleasant – Professor Chaos was a foot taller than Kenny and had about two hundred pounds of solid muscle more going for him. Instead, he started yelling. And when Professor Chaos started yelling, everyone knew about it. His voice was imposing, powerful, commanding. It was the kind of voice that no one would ever have imagined someone as non-threatening as Butters Stotch owning.

"What the _heck_ were you thinking of, _fool_! You bring them to our base and let them in on our secret plans – didn't you realise this is the work of Eric Cartman! They're _spies_! They'll give away our location and then Eric will bring his soldiers down here and kill us all!"

Stan and Kyle both cringed as Professor Chaos raged. He seemed so loud and angry, almost ready to kill. Kyle had a brief memory of his mother at her most strident and shoved the thought away in a hurry. He didn't need to be distracted when it looked like things were about to get ugly, nor did he need to be thinking about his family. If he did, he would start to wonder where they were, hoping them alive but dreading that they could all be dead.

Kenny however seemed oddly unconcerned about the outburst. Standing up, he hooked his thumbs into his pockets and grinned. "Come on Chaos, you know they can't have been working for fat ass Otherwise, they'd be our age, not still kids."

With a jolt, Kyle realised that Professor Chaos had to be the same age as Kenny, although he sure as shit didn't look like a teenager. Butters had been a few months older than Kenny but that didn't explain it at all. Professor Chaos seemed ageless, most likely in his mid-twenties although it would be impossible to tell for sure, whereas Kenny was just a normal looking teenage boy.

"They could be clones! Or robots! Or lookalikes!"

Kenny sighed and Kyle got the impression that calming the leader down was something he had to do often. "Kyle, when we went to Jew Scouts, what did I make a sculpture of?"

"Um, yourself?"

"Stan, when we went off to get our money back from Mel Gibson, what was in his wallet?"

Stan began to get the point. "Nothing but twenties. I didn't have change, but you had a couple of dollars."

Kenny nodded, turning his attention to Professor Chaos again. "See? That's shit that Cartman didn't know and couldn't tell a spy. This is the real deal."

Professor Chaos rubbed his knuckles together, a gesture at odds with his otherwise confident attitude. "You'd better be sure about this Kenny."

"Don't you see what this means?" Kenny glanced over at Kyle and Stan, then focused his attention on Professor Chaos. "This is the first time that something went wrong with one of Cartman's wishes. And _that_ means it might all be about to turn to shit."

"For us or for them?"

Kenny shrugged.

Professor Chaos glanced at the two boys. "How are they going to be of any use to us? They're _nine_."

"I'm not saying they will, only that it's a good sign! And besides, Ike's only twelve and he manages to help out plenty."

"Huh. This isn't a..."

"Ike?"

Professor Chaos and Kenny turned to look at Kyle, who had spoken quietly but with enough force to cut through the discussion.

"Ike? As in my baby brother Ike?"

Kenny sighed, running a hand through his hair distractedly. "Yeah, your brother. But Kyle – he's like, older than you are now. Might be a good idea to wait until someone explains the situation to him before you do the family reunion thing."

Kyle nodded absently, but couldn't help a huge grin breaking out across his face. He hadn't quite realised how much he had been bracing himself against the news that his entire family had been killed until he heard the news of his brother. There was so much relief that he didn't know whether to laugh or cry, dance or faint.

Professor Chaos grabbed the door handle and pulled it, ripping the entire door off its hinges. "You explain things. _I_ have a rebellion to organise." With that, he walked out of the room, slamming the door into some kind of barricade as if he hadn't even noticed that it had been broken.

"I don't remember him being this much of a douche," muttered Stan.

"It's not really his fault," said Kenny reluctantly. "He wanted to be Professor Chaos and bring destruction and doom on everyone who wronged him – but to do that, he has to lead the Resistance and try to out-think Cartman and it's... well, the pressure's getting to him."

Stan nodded, almost afraid to ask his next question. "So... who do we know here? Who _did_ survive what Cartman did to South Park?"

Scowling, Kenny played with the strings of his hoody, although he refrained from pulling up the hood as he would have done as a child. "Um. There were a few people. But it's sorta hard to tell if that means anything."

"Just tell us Kenny."

"Well – Ike, like I said. Some other kid in his class, Filmore, but he was pretty badly injured and he never leaves base. Token, he's been here since the beginning, and Pip too, but they were out tonight too and I haven't checked in to see that they made it back yet..." Kenny frowned, looking at the floor. "Craig was here, but he got taken down five months ago. We're hoping he's POW, but – it doesn't look good and fat ass isn't exactly interested in taking people alive. There's Bridon, he's a bit younger than us. Oh, Scott Tennorman insisted on joining up too but he's a little, uh, y'know. Psychotic. Jimbo and Ned, they're not _with_ us but we have seen them occasionally around and they take out Cartman's soldiers when they see 'em and don't mind giving us a hand if they see us."

There was silence for a moment and Stan realised that Kenny was at the end of his list. "That's _it_? That's _everyone_ who survived?"

"No!" Kenny slammed a hand against the wall in frustration. "That's everyone who joined the Resistance. The only ones we know for sure are alive or dead – or at least know that they _were_. There were some people who joined Cartman's side too! Knowing he was stronger and in a better position and wanting to make their own lives easier – can't blame 'em."

But he did blame them, the younger boys realised.

"When trouble first hit South Park, a lot of people made a run for it," continued Kenny more quietly. "Most people who stayed _had_ to, like my family couldn't get away. Or else they thought they were safe, like Token's family hiding in the panic room. But the only people we can say for sure are dead are the ones we've seen with our own eyes. Like the Mayor and the cops, right at the start, or the people who were with the Resistance and died fighting Cartman. But most of the town, we just don't know. They could all have made it out and be living happily in Denver right now."

Kyle scowled. "Is this your way of saying you have no idea where our families are?"

Reluctantly, Kenny nodded. "Because South Park was where the whole deal started, there were a lot more safe places to go. Most of Colorado was evacuated. All we know is, they're not here. They could be fine."

"Or they could be dead," said Stan bluntly.

Kenny grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck as he struggled for a reply – then was saved by a noise from the door as someone tried to push it open, realised it was practically destroyed and began shoving it to one side instead. Glad of the distraction, Kenny went over to help. As soon as the gap was wide enough for admittance, two men entered the room.

As there was only one African-American family in the whole town, it would have been strange if the two boys hadn't recognised Token. Although he was only an inch or two taller than Kenny, his posture was rigid and defensive, making him appear taller. The right hand side of his face was littered with healing cuts and his hair was ultra-short and functional, a far cry from the casually expensive appearance he had sported in his youth. The second man was slighter at about five foot nine, long blonde hair hanging half way down his back, sporting a short, deep scar above his left eyebrow that gained more prominence as he frowned at the sight of the newcomers. Had Kenny not mentioned the name before, Kyle and Stan would have struggled to recognise the teenager as the English orphan that shared their classroom. The one thing that both had in common was their clothes, wearing black jeans and hoodies like Kenny, although unlike Kenny, they both looked as if they had spent several hours crawling through the snow and mud.

Token folded his arms and shook his head slowly. "Shit. This seems to be our day for finding the missing."

Kenny whipped his head around to face the taller boy. "Huh? What?"

"We shouldn't discuss it in front of the kids," replied Token.

"Hey!" interjected Stan.

"Since we don't know if they're part of some scheme of Cartman's," continued Token as if the boy hadn't spoken.

"We were frozen!" objected Stan. "Cartman was trying to get rid of us too!"

"And this is something we really ought to alert Professor Chaos about," added Pip, also ignoring the interruption.

Token nodded his agreement, a frown on his face. "Yeah. Something's going down, something big. And I'm starting to think it's happening soon."

Kenny looked over to Mephisto. "Can you maybe take Stan and Kyle and get them something to eat? And then explain things to Ike. We gotta go seek an audience with Fearless Leader." He rolled his eyes slightly and then accompanied Token and Pip out of the room, able to feel the glare of his old friends burning into his back.

**~:~**

The Rebel base had come part and parcel of Butter's new persona. His first wish, the thing he had wanted most in the world, was to be like the Professor Chaos he saw in his mind. That guy was _big_, he was _bad_ and _no one_ pushed him around. Professor Chaos was a super villain, forced to live in solitude, determined to wreak havoc on an unsuspecting world. And for that, he needed a secret hideaway as well as a fashionable yet functional uniform. The underground facility was ideal. It contained the luxurious private quarters that a super villain demanded, labs for his pet scientists to work in and large living spaces for the private army he imagined one day he would command. And of course, the base could never be located unless he deemed it so, meaning that all Cartman's attempts to find it were fruitless. Even taking prisoners didn't help, they forgot the location of the base the moment they fell into enemy hands.

Of course, Professor Chaos hadn't realised that Cartman would also attempt to take over the world and would put his plan into action before the super villain could. This meant that before he could take over or destroy the planet, he had to do something about saving it. He found this vaguely irritating. He was supposed to be evil and it wasn't exactly evil to be saving the world, even if he was just saving it for later.

The team of scientists working on diabolical plots that he had envisioned was down to only one geneticist with an anal obsession. His soldiers were a group of genetically engineered, scantily clad Amazonians and he had certainly never envisioned that, although mostly because it would have got him grounded. And his trusted associates were down to a handful of youths, the oldest being barely into his twenties and completely obsessed with making Cartman suffer, the youngest, two twelve year old boys.

There was a knock on the door to his private chamber and without waiting for a response, three of his lackeys entered. That was something else Professor Chaos thought was unfitting for an evil overlord. Surely they should have been flanked by several heavily-armed Kelly's and upon gaining an audience, fallen down at his feet to grovel. But no, no one ever grovelled. He'd suggested it once to Kenny and the ensuing laughing fit had lasted so long that the Professor had killed him in a fit of pique.

He bet that _Cartman's_ followers grovelled. He'd bet they _salaamed_. Well, one day they would be doing that to him to. Assuming he ever found out just what 'salaamed' meant.

"Yo, Chaos," said Kenny casually. "We gotta talk. Big news, apparently."

They could have at least saluted or something, thought the Professor sulkily, lounging in a seat that resembled the bastard offspring of an ostentatious throne and an overstuffed couch. He'd wanted to become feared and hated, instead he seemed to be head of a committee. Life sucked.

Token approached ahead of the others, obviously anxious to share what they'd discovered. "It's Craig. He's alive."

"_Alive!"_ Kenny stared at Token in shock. "Are you _sure_?"

Token glanced back at him, his rigid posture not changing – but the first smile of the night broke out on his face. "We can't say for a hundred per cent sure, but our informant's pretty good and he seems to think he is."

"Awesome!" Kenny punched the air victoriously.

"He could be telling Cartman everything about our operations," growled the Professor.

"Nope," said Token. "He hasn't said a word. Just sits there flipping everyone off." This information brought a reluctant laugh from the Professor, a far less reluctant one from Kenny.

"I just stood guard," continued Token. "Didn't hear everything. I'll let Pip fill you in."

Professor Chaos nodded approvingly. At least Pip showed a casual respect for his status. There was a rumour around the base that the seemingly mild-mannered Brit had once escaped certain capture by biting the nose off a guard dog, but the Professor didn't really believe it. Anyone who willingly put a dogs nose in their mouth was just _sick_.

Pip looked far happier than he had on previous encounters when there was nothing good to report. "Well sir, we got to the rendezvous point..."

**~:~**

_The steady sound of digging was faint but unmistakable and Pip realised they'd found the right place. He glanced at Token who nodded tersely, unslinging his gun and checking the area. It seemed quiet, but a sneak attack or a sniper wasn't out of the question. _

_Pip crept forward, hitting the ground as he neared the location and crawling on his belly to the spot where the ground had taken on a caved-in look. It was less than two minutes later that a head emerged from the dirt. _

"_Zat had better be you, English boy."_

"_It's me," replied Pip, slightly impatiently. "Any news?"_

"_A lot ees happening at ze fat one's camp. Zere ees much activity and everyone ees nervous. Zere are many, many more soldiers on guard now."_

"_Did they see you?"_

"_Ha! Surely you make a joke. I am not like ze British, crashing through ze front door and shouting tally bloody ho. I was not seen."_

_Pip wasn't sure whether or not he should be offended, so he ignored the comment. "Have you any idea _why_ there are more soldiers around?"_

"_I do not know for certain. But zey are nervous and zat says to me all ees not going to plan." A pause while he took a drag on the perpetual cigarette. "My source tells me zat zey are keeping prisoners now. Zey have a young man whom zey have captured from your Resistance. His name is Craig and they keep him, although he tells them nothing and he answers all questions by displaying 'is middle digit. Maybe you are not all fucking pussies after all."_

_Pip's eyes lit up. "Craig? Alive?"_

"_I would not be too 'appy about it if I was you. If he tells zem nothing, zey keep 'im only as a bargaining tool. I tell you about him so you will be prepared for zat."_

_Sighing, Pip nodded. It was unlikely they would be able to rescue Craig from Cartman's stronghold even with an army of Kelly's. "Well, at least we know."_

"_You 'ave something for me?"_

_Pip grabbed for the rucksack on his back, opening it and removing several packets of cigarettes and a couple of jars, valuable commodities in the town in present times. _

"_Merci." _

_Finding himself suddenly under close scrutiny, Pip frowned. "What?"_

"_Zey say you bite ze noses off guard dogs."_

"_It was only _one_ dog! I panicked!"_

"_It ees okay by me. I fucking hate guard dogs. Look, if zere ees a big attack on ze fat one, I should like to be a part of it. Contact me in ze usual way, I shall be zere. And you may need someone to sneak a team in through a tunnel while ze rest of you shout tally bloody ho at ze front door, non?"_

_The head disappeared back into the hole but re-emerged after only a second, a hand brandishing the jar Pip had given him. "Oh, I forgot. Zere ees a message from my source. 'e says, it ees too much pressure for 'im. Next time, 'e will need more coffee."_

**~:~**

"...But I've never said tally bloody ho in my life until today," finished Pip.

Professor Chaos scowled, staring into the distance. After years of stagnant back-and-forth conflict, all while Cartman slowly gaining the upper hand, finally things had changed. It would help if he had more information on what was really going on at his stronghold, but between these latest reports and the sudden reappearance of Stan and Kyle, it seemed as if things were finally coming to a head. To the others it may just seem weird, but he had been there at the beginning – he knew things that no one else was privy to. It was a sign. Satan was getting tired of the two of them fighting it out on a national scale and one way or the other, at least one of them was going down.

Professor Chaos was determined it would not be him.

Token shrugged. "It seems like good news, but we just don't know enough. So they're nervous, big wow. Might have got word of an international attack, since they're still trying to shut fat ass down."

The Professor grunted, apparently barely listening to Token.

Kenny raised an eyebrow. "Of course, if we need to, we can launch an attack with something extra on our side. Chaos, you made the deal with Satan, how many wishes have you got left?"

Professor Chaos snapped out of his reverie, infuriated suddenly by the sheer impertinence of the question. "Oh, you'd like me to tell you that, wouldn't you? You'd like to know so that when Cartman's out of the way and I'm on the next phase of my plan, you can use the information to find my weak spot and chop off my heels!"

There was a moments silence, then Kenny sighed. "Dammit Butters."

The Professors eyes burned with rage and he raised a fist, which began to glow and crackle with energy. Kenny managed a brief, "Oh sh-" as the orb was aimed at him, temporarily rendering him a mere blackened skeleton before even that crumbled to dust.

Token and Pip exchanged glances and the Englishman spoke quickly. "Well, we really should hit the showers and give you time to consider the options. I hope our information proved useful!"

Receiving only a glare from the Professor as a reply, the pair let themselves out in a hurry.

**&*&*&*&**

**Another Authors Note: **I hadn't actually planned to put half of the characters in that show up. They kinda bullied me into including them! There's more information on how many wishes are left and what they were actually used for in the next chapter - things will get a lot less mysterious as we progress. Reviews are loved!


	5. Chapter 5

**Author Note: **Many thanks to thequillofdestiny for reviewing! This chapter is important but doesn't see much action. And originally it was longer, a LOT longer, but I split it into two - chapter six is the second part and should be up in a couple of days. Enjoy and if you got a couple of minutes spare, leave a review before ya leave!

**&*&*&*&**

_The pick-up was going too fast for the icy conditions, but that was pretty normal in this part of town. There was something about the street the McCormick's lived on that crept into the mind and encouraged even the most prudent of drivers to burn rubber. There were signs up at each end of the road – 'remember your speed!' they admonished, for all the good it did – but most drivers would take the advice to heart and still find themselves doing ten over the limit._

_The driver hadn't taken much notice of the signs, not because he was a local and used to them, although he was, but because he was on his mobile phone deep in conversation. He had heeded the safety drive about the dangers of driving while chatting, but this was a matter of grave importance and anyway, he was a really good driver. _

_Leaning back against the seat, he kept one hand on the wheel, the other holding the phone to his ear. "So Cathy says she isn't gonna take him cheating no more and Billy tells her it's all her fault for being a bitch, which she is of course..."_

_Behind a tree, two boys lurked, unseen by the driver._

"_...And then she tells him she wasn't gonna give him a choice and grabs the gun outta the drawer and I'm all like, Cathy! You can't go shooting him! And I'm thinking she's tryin' to scare him and she's doing it too, cuz he looks like he's about to piss hisself. And he's all like, baby please and then..."_

_A cat ran into the middle of the road, saw the oncoming pick-up and yowled. The drivers attention was yanked back to the complexities of handling the vehicle in the snow as he hit the brakes only to find the pick-up skidding out of control. The cat fled, streaking out of harms way as the truck mounted the pavement, hitting two mailboxes, an abandoned big wheel and a couple of other assorted items before juddering to a halt._

_In the confusion, the driver had dropped his phone. He reached down and picked it up, checking he was still connected. "Shit! Just had to swerve to miss a damn cat. If anything dented my ride..."_

_The person at the other end of the line opined that a few more dents would make no more difference and the driver laughed. "Yeah, well. Didn't hit nothing major I don't think."_

_He eased the truck back onto the road, falling easily back into his previous conversation. "...And now we gotta wait until Thursdays episode to find out if Cathy killed him or not!"_

_In seconds the pick-up was out of sight, leaving behind smashed mail boxes, a ruined bike and something that had been thrown into a tree by the force of the impact, something that looked eerily like a grisly orange piñata. _

_Cartman ran from behind the tree, Butters following reluctantly. Reaching the bottom of the tree where Kenny's corpse hung, Cartman stared up and noted how the branch had punched right through the other boys eye and out of the back of his head, causing him to grin. _

"_Eric, I, uh, don't see how this gets us to meet Satan," muttered Butters, rubbing his knuckles together anxiously and trying to keep his eyes averted from Kenny. He'd seen scenes like this one too many times to count, but he was still squeamish when the death was particularly nasty. He tried not to wonder much about how Kenny felt when he died, if it hurt, if it made him sad or cross that everyone seemed to see sights like this as just a normal part of life in South Park. Thinking of _that_ made him wonder if a day would come when Kenny never came back and that made him feel miserable. Since he didn't want to be miserable, he tried not to dwell on the topic._

_Cartman's piggy eyes gleamed. "That's because I know something you don't know."_

"_What?"_

"_Kenny told me why he's been dying so much lately. And I know _just_ how we can benefit from it."_

_Butters bit his lip. Kenny _had_ been dying more than usual recently, from the nail gun incident the previous week to the barrage of DVDs travelling at lethally high velocity only three days before. But he didn't see how it could help them and he thought it was kinda mean to use his death as a way to get what he wanted. Although that was Cartman. No matter what the situation, he would see how it would benefit him before he did anything else._

_From nearby, Butters caught the strong aroma of brimstone._

**~:~**

Cartman sipped at his drink, secure in his stronghold. There were enough soldiers on his side to ensure that any attempts on his life would almost certainly be futile – many of them he had recruited as soon as he unleashed his first strike on his home town, giving them the option to serve or die. None of them had chosen to die. From there, it was a simple matter to keep them on side with the constant threat of lethal termination for anyone acting against him and by ensuring the conditions among his rank were relatively pleasant. Being on Cartman's side meant a life of constant unease and dread, but also meant living to a standard unthinkable anywhere else. Most people had decided long before that they were better off not creating waves.

A few had tried of course, especially in the beginning. Only Butters and Kenny knew of the origin of his sudden power and neither knew how to exploit it. This meant that those thinking he was a mere child and could be dealt with easily were subject to an unpleasant shock followed by interesting but radically short lives.

The first strike had taken place in South Park, but it was a surprise to everyone when he had decided to keep it as his main base of operations. They thought him foolish at best, mad at worst, but Cartman had been serenely confident in his decision and it had not been misplaced. The quiet mountain town had shielded Cartman from harm and been a suitable, if not central, base of operations. There was some discussion over the choice, most people opting for sentimentality since it was where he had grown up and where he had made his presence as a threat known. It _was_ sentimentality but not in the way most imagined it. A lifetime of memories tinged with the sweet, savage joy of revenge. Every day he could look out and see the changes that his presence had made while he plotted how the rest of the country would soon meet the same fate.

It had taken longer than he had hoped for, but the final obstacles in his way were about to be eradicated. Two more states and the country would be entirely under his control. After that, he'd have to finish dealing with Canada and begin a serious take over of Mexico, since they were on the boarders of _his _empire. That would make Europe his next target, since they had aligned themselves against him. The Resistance were barely a threat, more of a thorn in his side – that idiot Butters had thought he could be a leader but had been outmanoeuvred at every step. Things were going great.

Except that they weren't.

Standing, Cartman walked over to the wall, regarding a large photograph of himself. To the top of the picture was a switch that most would have missed and even fewer been able to reach – Cartman stood at a shade over six foot and even he had to stretch – and when he flicked it, the picture slid noiselessly aside to reveal the wall safe behind it.

He typed the number into the electronic padlock, pulling it open. A thief would have been disappointed by the contents – no riches, no jewels, nothing but a dog-eared notebook worth less than a dollar. On closer inspection, the book was covered in random scribblings that seemed to be meaningless, but these were the code that Cartman used to keep track on how his plans were progressing. Of course there were other sources, information kept by his military leaders, but this book contained the things he needed to keep private.

To most people, they would have meant nothing at all. Had the Resistance been able to decipher them, they would mean – everything.

Sighing, Cartman flipped open the pages and read without really concentrating – the words were so familiar they were practically burned into his memory and he used them more as an aid to focus his thoughts than to refresh his recollections. The first couple of pages dealt with his original plan, the writing large and careful and done in turquoise ink. Find Satan. Sell soul for wishes. Regain soul with final, unselfish wish.

The next few pages dealt with the first wish, that anyone who could stop him or would even try before his plan was put into action would be stopped. That had been a hell of a success. He didn't even know what had happened to Kyle and Stan, although sometimes he wished he could find out where they had gone and visit, just to see the looks on their faces. But nah, they were probably dead, although he hadn't been specific about that.

Then came the details of the second wish, the destruction of his opposition, the devastation his first strike and his army had brought to the small mountain town. Revenge for the hundred small humiliations each day brought, for the people that looked down on him and hated him, the people who had it better than he did. Once the dust had cleared, he was in sole charge of the entire town and now everyone had to obey only him.

Looking over the pages that detailed his third wish, he had to grin. Damn, that had been a work of sheer genius. He wasn't blind to the workings of the Devil and knew that if there was any way the wishes could be misinterpreted, then Satan would exploit that. So he had come up with a way to make himself untouchable that couldn't end in an 'alive-in-a-dismembered-body' kinda way, or with his ghost wandering the earth or anything.

He sometimes wondered if Kenny knew just how important he was to Cartman's continued survival. It was doubtful, but the fat boy could hope.

Fourth wish: his empire was as untouchable as he was. His fellow Americans – he chortled a little at the phrase – had never been able to damage anything that he had claimed, even though his stronghold wasn't hidden away. The Europeans had been similarly unlucky.

Fifth wish: expanding his empire. Cartman _could _be patient when he had to be, but progress had been maddeningly slow. Still, in only nine years he controlled most of the country and a good sized part of Canada too. Not bad when he was still eighteen years old.

And that led to the source of his problem.

He still had two wishes left, but one of those had to be used to save his soul from Hell. That meant that realistically, he only had one more wish left. Only one. If he used it rashly, then he would be left vulnerable to any unforeseen occurrences. But if he _didn't_ use it – then there was no way he would be able to hold the entire world at a stand off. His fifth wish had allowed him to get this far, but every other country in the world had banded together against him. It was taking sides on a global scale not seen since the days of the Second World War. This made Cartman proud as hell – but still worried. Hitler had been defeated when the Allies had stuck their noses in and although no one could damage what he _already _laid claim to, they might be able to stop him going any further. After capturing America, Canada and Mexico, he could well spend his life in a war that neither side could win, each side routinely battling to a draw not because of Cartman's strategy, but just because no one could take what was his.

But.

_But. _

He still had one wish that he could use to his advantage. Something that would have every other country on the planet rolling over in defeat and begging him to accept their people into his empire. Something that would mean the war he fought now was over, along with any future war. Something that would make him the victor, now and forever.

Something that could land him in the shit if he didn't go about it in just the right way.

Sighing again, Cartman took the notebook back over to his desk and found the remaining blank pages in the back of the book. Grabbing a pen from his desk drawer, he activated the intercom on his desk.

"Yes Lord Cartman sir?" The perky voice of his personal secretary.

"Make sure I'm not disturbed," said Cartman brusquely, turning the intercom back off and thinking carefully. _If_ he decided to use the wish, he was going to have to think very carefully about just how to word it.

To anyone looking over his shoulder, it would appear that the man was writing more of the same unintelligible gibberish as was present in the rest of the notebook. To Cartman however, things read differently.

_I wish I could finally destroy the Resistance for good – and that I alone controlled the entire worlds supply of nuclear power and weaponry..._

**~:~**

_Dead again._

Kenny would have sighed if he had been corporeal. Instead he opened eyes that were not physical, but almost a memory, glancing at his hands. They were faint, although if that was due to his spirit reassembling its form or his not-quite-ready eyes, he couldn't be sure. This always happened when his body was totally destroyed; as if his soul was moulding itself back into human form so his body would know what shape to take when he returned.

When he was younger he would usually end up in Heaven or Hell, depending on the whims of the deities and his own actions prior to his demise. But going to Heaven when he couldn't stay always made Kenny feel incredibly depressed on his resurrection in a way that was impossible to communicate to the living, so when he felt the wings sprouting he usually just hovered around the gates and ogled the naked ladies. And for some reason God had never minded that Kenny had been to Hell, so that became Kenny's main go-to when he died. Lucifer had lightened up a lot since his Old Testament days, but there was still plenty of torture and pain to go around – boy bands all went to Hell when they died – which made Kenny glad to be back on earth again.

That was how it _had_ been, until Cartman sold his soul.

Kenny still didn't really want to depress himself by going to Heaven and then returning to the war zone that his mortal life had become. But there was no way he was going to Hell either, not when he didn't have to. Instead, he would hang around, discorporated, until there was a sudden sensation of movement and velocity and he would end up standing close to the place of his most recent demise, human again. It was pretty boring and it might have been better if he had been able to act like a _real_ ghost, floating off to check up on the living. It would have helped no end to spy on Cartman that way. Instead he was surrounded by a deep grey, not floating but not standing on anything, not touching his surroundings but not seeing past them, not still, not falling. In short, it sucked.

It was rare that anything penetrated the void, although once he had accidentally tapped in on a bunch of semi-drunk students at an Australian University doing an Ouija board and, pretending to be the spirit of a dashing pirate killed on the island, had persuaded them all to take off their tops. Usually though, in order to penetrate the void, the other had to be already skilled in navigating the different areas of the afterlife.

So when Kenny heard the voice, he didn't need to recognise it (although he did) to know who it was.

"Hey there Kenny."

Kenny folded his barely-visible arms and put his nose in the air, making a big show of his lack of reply.

"You're still not talking to me? It's been nine years!"

Having heard this all before, although infrequently, Kenny was able to let it wash over him without comment.

There was a sigh. "It was my job. I couldn't just ignore that. I would have got Eric's soul in the end, but the other boy... without that deal, I might never have claimed him for Hell."

Kenny snorted in irritation, but managed to keep his silence. When he didn't reply, Satan usually just gave up.

The fallen angel appeared, his huge red form fading in through the greyness of the void. Kenny turned away from him and continued to pretend he was alone.

"The end of everything you know is nigh. Soon, the two souls sworn to me will be locked in their final battle and I shall claim my prize."

Kenny turned quickly, for the first time in nine years acknowledging the devil. He tried to cut through the biblical phrasing and work out exactly what was meant. "Wait, _final_ battle? But – what's gonna happen? Who'll win?"

Satan smirked, glad to have finally got a response, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. "There is no destiny hanging over this battle. The victor shall live, the loser shall not. And both souls shall be mine, eventually. The outcome doesn't matter. Maybe you should be out of the way for a while. I hear the Costa Del Sol is nice at this time of year. Want to be re-animated there?"

Scowling, Kenny shook his head absently. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Maybe I owe you one, from all those years ago," replied Satan. "For helping me out with... everything."

For a moment, Kenny almost let his guard down. Until Satan spoiled it all. "After all, without you, the devastation that has stricken the earth would never have come to pass."

Kenny clenched his fists in rage, but managed to keep his voice level. "I'm going back to South Park. There's a way around this somehow, I know it. And I'm _gonna _find it."

"Whatever you say," said Satan, clearly amused. "Well, I've got to go. I have to see a man about a wish."

"No way." Kenny tried moving forward, but he remained still as Satan faded back into the grey. Then he realised his nails were digging into his flesh, which meant he was about solid. Which meant...

There was the familiar sensation of travelling at high speed without actually moving and Kenny instinctively closed his eyes, opening them a moment later to find his surroundings changed. He was back in South Park, just as dawn was breaking over the mountains. In the weak light, the destruction of the town was even more evident, the silence palpable. Home sweet home.

He took a step backward and promptly fell into a snow bank.

**~:~**


	6. Chapter 6

**Authors Note: **Many thanks to thequillofdestiny for reviewing! And sorry, but Ike won't be showing up until the next chapter... but he will be showing up!

**&*&*&*&**

The boy was shaking but if he hadn't been, it would have been suspicious. Tweek Tweak was a skinny mass of ticks, twitches and neurosis, all things that ensured he was kept far away from most operations required by Cartman's lackeys. There was no way he could have been a soldier – his poor motor control alone meant he'd be more likely to shoot the man next to him than any target and also, he tended to shriek when he he was startled, or when he heard loud noises, a definite no-no when he was likely to be shot at. Working in the medical field was out too, since high-pressure situations sent him into frozen panic (bad) or running-away-screaming panic (worse). He was an adequate cook, adequate at computers, but his outbursts made him far from reliable and tended to distract other people. No one had as yet dared to let him behind the wheel of a vehicle.

Oddly enough, it was his healthy paranoid streak that made him ideal for the place he eventually ended up; the detention cells. Not as a prisoner, but as a lower-order guard, the one who delivered meagre meals to the few inmates, made sure nothing strange was going on. It was his insane paranoia that ensured he never thoughtlessly entered a cell to aid a prisoner in case of dramatic collapse or theatrical agony, summoning two or three of the soldiers standing guard nearby and letting them take the responsibility. Tweek was afraid when that kind of thing happened that someone was going to die, but even more afraid of what would happen if it was a trick and someone escaped.

Not that there were very many prisoners at any given time. Occasionally there were soldiers that had screwed up in some way, pissed Cartman off. Tweek never found out what happened to them when they left his cell block, if they were transferred elsewhere, or if they were allowed back to their duties with punishment served – or something else. Occasionally there was a member of the Resistance captured, but they never stayed around long. Tweek didn't need to wonder about what happened to them; he already knew. Dumped in the cells either to regain consciousness or to get good and scared, then away to be interrogated. And once that was over, terminated.

But that had all changed once Craig had arrived.

Tweek had never known a member of the Resistance being returned to the cells after interrogation and he'd never had a prisoner longer than seven weeks. Yet Craig lingered for five months seemingly without purpose. He hadn't talked, that much Tweek had realised from the conversations of the armed guards. Yet it wasn't like Cartman to have people hanging around for bargaining or blackmail needs.

All had become clear when the Head of Security had invited him for a coffee after his shift had ended. Mills had been living in Denver when Cartman's forces had swept through it, electing to join the invaders rather than try to repel them. The rumour was that he had been dishonourably discharged from the US Army and seen the act as fine revenge. Tweek was inclined to believe it. The man had to be in his mid-fifties but fitter and more muscular than most men half that age, wiry and yet strong, with a bald pate that glimmered when the light caught it and eyes that were almost colourless. He gave Tweek the creeps and would have been happy to have never caught his attention.

Mills had served up good, strong coffee, not the usual instant blend that was the only thing available to the underlings on the base. Tweek recognised it as a luxury supermarket brand that had been gaining popularity largely thanks to a heavily sexual TV campaign just before the shit hit the fan. He supposed Mills was trying to get him on side – his need for caffeine was something of a joke among the other soldiers – but in truth, it irritated him. After years of only the cheap stuff, it should have hit his system like a runaway locomotive. It probably would have done too, if he hadn't been exchanging what little information he had for coffee for several years. Finding a decent cup after years of crap had been worth the risk and no one ever suspected that twitchy little Tweek would play double agent.

And the coffee hadn't even been the main thing. It was nice to think that in some small way, he was hitting back at Cartman.

"You were in school with Eric, weren't you Tweek?" asked Mills as he placed a second steaming cup in front of the boy. He had swallowed the first one in a couple of gulps but it hadn't done a thing to calm him.

"GAH! Uh, yes!"

"Interesting class that one. Eric of course, and Professor Chaos. And your prisoner I believe."

Tweek clutched the cup with both hands, trying to meet Mills eyes, but unable. His stare reminded him of a desert lizard eyeing a particularly appetising beetle seconds before it flicked out its tongue and dragged the hapless insect to its doom.

Mills pressed the point. "Were you friends with this Tucker?"

"I – _gnk – _no! I mean, sorta. Yeah. N-not really." What was the right answer? If he said they barely knew each other, Cartman might have already said they hung out sometimes and Mills would know he was lying. But if he said they _were _friends, then Mills might think he was part of some elaborate plan and they would find out all about the coffee and the Mole and the Resistance and then he'd get put in a cell too and tortured and it wasn't even as if he knew anything and it was all too much pressure and...

"I was..."

"GAH! GAH!!" Tweek jerked, hitting the cup and knocking the coffee flying off the table, shattering the mug and leaving a brown stain over the floor. "Shit! GAH! Shit!"

"Calm down son. It's nothing to worry about. It's maybe a bit stronger than you're used to." Mills stood and poured Tweek another cup, putting it in front of the boy before dealing with the pieces of porcelain on the floor. His fussy carefulness and occasional black scowls made Tweek think that maybe Mills had _read_ about being nice, but never tried it himself before now and was finding it hard going.

"I was just going to say that maybe you should try talking to Craig," said Mills, depositing the broken pieces on the table and sitting opposite Tweek again. His voice was mild, but his eyes were boring into the boy, missing nothing. "If you could gain his trust, he might let slip something that could be useful to us."

Tweek's left eye began to spasm but before he could go into a full-blown twitch attack, Mills raised a hand. "No pressure, if that's what you're worried about. If he says something, that's excellent, but if he doesn't then we're no worse off than we are now. Just start a dialogue and see where it goes."

Not two minutes after saying he'd try, Tweek was ushered from the room by Mills, the remaining half-jar of coffee in his hand as if some kind of reward for selling out. It was about that point where Tweek stopped feeling mild terror and began to get pissed off.

Still, he had tried to engage Craig in friendly conversation, if only so as not to arouse Mills suspicions. Craig steadfastly refused to reply, flipping him off whenever Tweek stammered some comment about the weather or the state of the food. That was just fine with Tweek. As long as he knew nothing, he couldn't harm the Resistance any and he didn't have to stay up all night wondering if Mills had overheard the information and wondered why it hadn't been reported back to him.

And then he had let his guard down and now he was in big trouble.

It had been so _stupid _really. There were no other prisoners apart from Craig and Tweek had got used to holding a one-sided conversation with the silent teen. The solitary meal Craig was allowed was bland and unappetising, since an undernourished prisoner was less likely to cause trouble, usually served with a plastic beaker of water expected to last the whole day – there was no sink in the cell to refill it and the less said about the bathroom conditions the better – but on this day, Tweek had brought in an extra cardboard cup and made Craig a cup of the instant muck they insisted on calling coffee in here. It might brighten his day a little and the best part was, if anyone got suspicious about it, he could always say it was a part of his plan to get Craig to trust him. There was always the worrying possibility that Craig _would_ start to trust him, but that was about as likely as anyone noticing him adding the coffee to the tray in the first place. He deemed it an acceptable risk.

He had been taking a lot more 'acceptable risks' of late. A large part of him panicked about this, wondering if he was misjudging things, if they were watching him and noticing that he was acting strangely. But the part of him that took those risks pushed those thoughts away until after the fact.

As he opened the hatch and shoved the tray through into the holding area – Cartman had watched 'Silence of the Lambs' far too often and the cells were identical to the ones on the film – Craig rolled over on the bunk, eyeing the cardboard container with some curiosity but making no move to get the tray.

"I –_ gnk – _thought you might like some coffee," said Tweek as conversationally as he was able. Craig raised his eyebrows without speaking or even flipping him off and Tweek grew more nervous. He began to have visions of the guards racing into the cells and dragging him away, shouting that they knew all about him giving the prisoner coffee and that meant he was collaborating with the enemy and then maybe they would pistol whip him...

"GAH!"

Craig stared and Tweek tried to pretend he wasn't panicking over something as small as coffee. "I mean it's – _gah_ – just the instant stuff they give us here, not like the rich roast you have at the MMMPHH!"

Tweek clapped both hands over his mouth to stop the words escaping, his entire body becoming one giant twitch as he realised he had just confessed to anyone listening he knew what _brand_ of coffee they drank in the secret hidden Rebel base. He whipped his head from side to side, waiting for the soldiers to storm in and pounce. But the doors remained closed and locked; the cameras fortunately without sound and anyone watching presuming that Tweek was just being – well, Tweek.

Craig rapidly began putting together the little signs, the way Tweek tried to talk in ways that didn't really allow for honest answers, all the times back at base when Pip and Token went to meet their informant with cigarettes and coffee as payment, the information they had come back with mostly gossip and speculation gained from overhearing the guards. It was all he could do to keep from laughing out loud as he made the connection and it was only Tweek's anguished expression and the knowledge that the safety of both of them relied on them acting as if nothing had changed that stopped him. He had no idea how closely they were being monitored, but he was taking no chances; he had to cover for Tweek and quickly before anyone listening realised that something important had been said.

Leaping off the bunk, Craig strode over to the tray and picked up the coffee, eyeing the cardboard carton with fake suspicion. "You snuck me in coffee huh? And I thought the gnomes carried away your balls with your underpants."

"The gnomes can't – _gnk_ – can't get in. No one can get in..." _Or out, _Tweek had meant to say but stopped himself. He thought it might be a good idea to just shut up.

One hand curled around the cardboard coffee cup, Craig used the other hand to flip Tweek off, but instead of his usual expressionless glare, there was a smirk on his face. The message was received loud and clear; Craig knew exactly who had been giving information to the Resistance.

Tweek bolted.

He spent several long days and sleepless nights wondering what the hell he was going to _do_. Craig could give him away in an instant, inform someone of Tweek's betrayal and that would be the end of everything. Even if he didn't mean to, Cartman might decide to try interrogating him again and Tweek knew that was just another word for torture and Craig could give in and tell them about Tweek and then they would torture him too and pull out his fingernails and jam sticks in his pee-hole and and then he might tell them about the Mole and it was _way too much pressure!_

There was only one way out of the situation as far as Tweek could see; he had to make sure that Craig was never able to tell anyone else what he knew. Which just added a whole new set of problems. He couldn't kill Craig – he might be able to make it look like the teen was trying to escape, but it was still a bit drastic, not to mention cowardly. Instead, he would have to make sure Craig wasn't around to tell anyone.

In short, he was going to have to help Craig escape.

The thought of such overt rebellion gave Tweek a panic attack of epic proportions the first time it occurred, fortunately he was in his own quarters at the time and didn't have an audience. As he gave it more thought, he decided there was no way. He would just have to hope that Craig wouldn't say anything and if he managed to keep the Rebels secrets, why not Tweek's? Anyway, no one had shown an interest in Craig for months, he probably wouldn't get the chance to tell anyone even if he wanted to.

But once the idea of aiding an escape had been given space in his mind, he couldn't shake it. There had never been the opportunity before and so he had never considered it, but now there was time to plan, few guards aside from Tweek and them mostly outside the cell block, the lack of escape attempts had lulled everyone into a sense of security. The more he turned it over in his mind, the clearer he could see pulling it off – and the more his nervous jitters acted up.

He was scared. Shit, he was _so_ scared.

And he knew he could get Craig out of the cells and back to the Rebels. He knew that his idly-conceived plan could work. He knew that the Mole could help him.

Which was why, when he left off his shift in the prison cell, he left his replacement a full pot of coffee laced with enough sleeping pills to knock an elephant on its backside.

There were three regular guards, each doing eight hour shifts, a couple of floaters when they were called away. Tweek's shift was midday until eight. The stronghold was quietest around ten. The middle of the night meant an increased perimeter guard presence, earlier and they ran the risk of meeting someone who knew them.

Tweek occasionally returned to the cells once his shift was finished to play cards with a couple of the other guys who worked in the cells, so he didn't attract undue attention when he was seen in the area once he was done for the day. He nodded to a couple of guards he knew, sending up a little prayer of thanks that there were so many soldiers that no one knew everyone. It made his life slightly easier. There was no game planned that night, so Tweek was pretty sure there would be only one guard within the cells themselves. Outside, there were usually two guys but he knew they weren't above coming into the cells themselves to grab a cup of coffee – it was a boring job with little happening, but Tweek suspected the caffeine wouldn't be helping them stay awake tonight.

It was just after ten that Tweek crept into the cells. The two guards outside were leaning against the wall, alseep on their feet and the guard inside was snoring, showing that Tweek's plan had worked just fine up until now. Carefully, he headed to Craig's cell. Just because the guards watching the cameras expected nothing didn't mean they weren't on full alert. Although Tweek knew they were probably not even watching what happened in the cells. At this time, the camera angles were firmly fixed on the women's area as they prepared for bed.

Craig was about asleep on his bunk when Tweek released the lock, having liberated the keycard to the cells from the sleeping guard.

Sitting up in a hurry, Craig jumped off the bunk and pushed at the door, as if unbelieving that he was free. "Tweek..."

"GAH! GO!"

"What about you?"

"C-could you like – _gnk_ – hit me over the head? Like, you overpowered me?"

"No!" Craig grabbed Tweek's wrist. "You think they wouldn't realise you were here? You helped me? You have to come too!"

"NO! GAH!"

"Come on Tweek!" Craig pulled Tweek along with him, until he realised he would have to go out among Cartman's troops in full prisoner uniform. "Um, did you even HAVE a plan?"

"Spare uniform," Tweek stammered, shoving the clothes at Craig. The boy looked at them and frowned. He was taller than Tweek and skinnier thanks to his confinement, if anyone looked closely enough they would find the ill-fitting outfit suspicious. But there was nothing that could be done about it. Quickly, he shed his clothes and dragged the uniform on, grimacing as he looked down at himself wearing the insignia of the hated Cartman.

"We gotta get outta here, I can't wear _this_ for long," he muttered.

Tweek's entire body looked like it was about to shake apart. "I – _gnk_ – left the doors unlocked all the way to the outside, the guards – _gnk_ – shouldn't be a problem _oh God what if I killed them Mills is gonna shoot me in the head!_ GAH! You better go, I drew map _oh shit oh shit_!"

"_We_ have to go," said Craig firmly, checking out the rest of the cell block and seeing only the lone sleeping guard at the far end. He glanced at Tweek, realised just how terrified the other boy was and put his hands on Tweek's shoulders, trying to calm him down. "Look, they're gonna know you helped me as soon as they wake up and check the cameras, so there's no way you can stay here."

"_Oh shit I forgot they'd check!"_

"And you've been giving information to the Resistance for this long, you must wanna see Cartman go down."

"Yeah! I mean – _gnk_ – I didn't _choose _to come here, we got rounded up and then they said if we weren't with them we'd get killed and I didn't want to die and I _still_ don't want to die and..."

"Tweek. Calm. Down." Craig spoke firmly and patiently, but was horribly aware that their luck could run out at any moment. "We have to go, right _now, _but you _have _to calm down or else we're gonna get noticed."

Nodding, Tweek took a deep breath, then another, willing himself to recall the many relaxation tecniques that people had tried to teach him over the years, largely without success. He clamped his mouth firmly closed, digging his teeth into his bottom lip as if trying to staple it shut, managing to get the worst of his jitters under control. His eye was still twitching rapidly, hands shaking, but Craig had seen him practically every day for the past five months and knew that was considered pretty much normal. It was as best as they were going to get.

Tweek had neglected to bring shoes and prisoners went barefoot, so Craig liberated the pair the sleeping guard wore, wrinkling his nose slightly at the thought but grateful that the size wasn't too far out and that he could walk without problems, even if he was covered in blisters by the time they got out of here. _If_ they got out of here.

The guard didn't even pause in his snoring as Craig opened the door and peered out. There were two more guards in the corridor beyond and if what he recalled from the brief moments he had been transported to and from his cell, the far door led directly to the outside... into the centre of Cartman's stronghold. From there, he would have to rely on Tweek.

Unless...

Cartman was _here_ somewhere. Sitting around on his fat ass, probably eating something and abusing his _authoritah_. Gloating at taking over most of the country, laughing because so far the Resistance had been unable to stop him.

What if Craig were able to walk into the room he was in, dressed as one of his trusted guards, take out a gun and blow the fat fucks brains across the wall?

The war would be over and they would have won. One shot. Just _one_ and the whole thing could be done with, there would be no dictator after world domination and life could get back to normal for everyone.

Well. Almost everyone. He was sure that after shooting Cartman, his own life would be measured in seconds rather than minutes. But wouldn't it be worth it, if it would stop all the fighting and brutality and fear?

Craig almost grinned as he considered it, how simple it would be, how _satisfying_, how he could die happy knowing that he was the one to stop the hated fatass....

Unfortunately, he had to face reality.

The stronghold was _huge _and Cartman could be anywhere. The uniform wouldn't fool anyone who checked it closely and it was possible that someone would recognise him as a prisoner. The cells were poorly guarded because no one really expected him to be able to leave the cell at all, but Cartman would be more heavily guarded, it was unlikely that he'd get anywhere near. Taking a gun from the guards outside, even though they were out of it, was a risk – he knew nothing of their training and it was possible they would snap awake if he touched them, like a frigging marine or something.

He would have tried in spite of all that, if not for Tweek. He couldn't drag the other boy off on that kind of suicide mission, but he couldn't send him off to escape alone – he was under control for the moment but he'd never keep a lid on his panic for that long.

Going after Cartman was not an option.

_Fuck._

"So, which way once we're out of here?" he asked, pitching his voice low.

"Out the d-door at the end and go left around the prison and _oh shit_ we head for the fence, you can see it but it's _shitshitshit_ it's a long way off I know the way _shit_..."

"Okay, chill. You lead."

"Gah!"

The pair slipped quietly past the slumbering guards and Craig pushed open the door to the outside world, checking around for soldiers but seeing no activity nearby. In the distance, he could hear noises, a shout that sounded more amused than alarmed, an engine revving.

_Act natural,_ he told himself. _Act like you have every right to be here, like you really are a soldier and you do this every day, no reason for you to get stopped..._

He strode out of the door, indicating for Tweek to hurry up, then put his thoughts into action. In his experience, people behaving suspiciously attracted attention, but if he blended in, no one would pay attention to him. Hopefully. If they were lucky.

The next half an hour was possibly the most stomach-churning of Craig's life since the initial invasion of South Park. The stronghold truly was enormous and the prison wasn't located near the perimetre, like any _thoughtful_ person would put it, instead locating it right in the centre and making it more difficult to make a break for it. The movies had totally lied to him. Occasionally a soldier or worker would walk past and three times they were greeted cheerfully. Tweek jumped every time, but Craig merely waved and said, "Hey," hurrying away as quickly as he thought he could get away with. At any moment, he expected klaxons to start sounding and spotlights turned on, searching them out and tellign the entire stronghold that the prisoner had escaped.

But no alarms went off, no one chased after them demanding to know what they were doing. They made it to the perimetre fence and it was there they stopped and Craig took in the situation.

"Shit."

The fence was stupidly tall and electrified. Where they stood was out of sight of most of the buildings, the ones they could see shrouded in darkness. They were between two lookout posts and Craig knew that _they_ were occupied, probably with snipers. Once he'd been on a scouting mission with Kenny when a sniper got the drop on them and remembering the mess that the bullet made of Kenny's head, he did _not_ want to find out what that felt like. They couldn't be seen from the towers right then, but the moment they were on the other side of the fence, they would be. Assuming they even _got_ to the other side of the fence.

"He's not here!" Tweek looked around in panic, starting to shake more than ever. "I said he had to be here at – _gnk_ – eleven and he's not _here_!"

"Hush!" hissed Craig, grabbing Tweek's wrist and checking the time on his watch. "It's too early! It's not eleven yet."

"Oh shit, I messed up, I messed up the time and we gotta wait here and if anyone sees us they'll wonder why we're just waiting here and..."

"Calm down," said Craig, checking around again for signs of life. "Who's coming?"

"He was here this afternoon to give me the coffee and I asked him to come back and..."

"Shh." Craig clapped a hand over Tweek's mouth, tilting his head to the side. "Hear that?"

For a few moments there was silence, then a quiet, earthy sound.

"He's here." The relief in Tweek's voice was palpable and Craig looked around again. Nope, no sign of anyone. And if Tweek really thought someone could help them get out of there, well, he'd have to be driving a tank or something...

The ground shifted below his feet and he leapt backwards, startled. For once, Tweek didn't seem alarmed, instead dropping to his knees and waiting a couple of minutes until a head poked out of the soil.

Craig blinked. "Oooo-kay."

"Hurry," said the man in a heavy accent, widening the hole so that a person could fit, climbing out himself and sitting on the ground. "Zere is not much time."

Tweek trembled as he looked at the hole. "Is that safe?"

Craig raised an eyebrow. "Is it safer to stay?"

Taking the hint, Tweek climbed, slightly reluctantly, into the hole.

"Huh, 'e told me it would be just ze prisoner," said the Mole, sounding vaguely amused. "Hurry. We do not want to be caught."

But Craig paused a moment longer, breathing fresh air and feeling the wind against his face for the first time in five months. The night sky, which he'd barely noticed before his imprisonment, seemed the most uplifting sight he'd ever seen. He hadn't aspired to excitement and told himself he would have been happy enough with an average job, average world, average life. But this feeling – _this_ was freedom. And it was worth fighting for.

With a grin, he raised both fists and flipped his middle fingers at the stronghold before turning and climbing into the hole.

**~:~**

Eric Cartman shook his head in feigned dismay, speaking into the intercom. "Would you look at that. The cell's empty. One prisoner and they can't even keep him. Sleeping on the job – and the camera monitors didn't see anything? Typical, were they watching the girls' rooms again? Well, have them all shot in the morning. The guards I mean, not the girls."

He shut off the intercom and turned to his guest. "Drink?"

"No, I've got to get back. Hell doesn't just run itself you know." Satan stood in a corner, a rather pleased expression on his face. Cartman didn't notice, having turned instead toward the big screen on the wall, which currently showed the view from the prison security camera. Craig's cell remained empty, but there was plenty of activity going on as the condemned soldiers who failed to stop the escape were locked in the very cells they had been guarding.

Cartman smirked at the sight, taking a seat behind his desk and ignoring the smell of brimstone as Satan vanished in a pillar of flame that did some serious damage to the expensive rug. "Craig, I've no idea why I kept you alive - but I'm _so happy_ that I did."

**&*&*&*&**

**Another Author Note: **Y'know, I had no intention of having Tweek in the story and I had planned for Craig to be dead. I just got a major kick outta the thought of Tweekers being a double agent and had to put it in there. This was supposed to be a short piece at the end of the previous chapter, but Tweek just took over, making this the longest chapter yet. And the most fun to write! I think I've been reading too many Creek fics lately... not that there will be any romance at all in this story.

Reviews, as always, are highly appreciated! Let me know how I did with the characterisation (I'm a bit nervous that I screwed it up) and if you liked it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author Note: **This chapter was once again split into two parts – this is the first part and contains a little background as to what happened during the invasion of South Park. The next chapter will be up in a day or so and is the one where the action goes into high speed.

Thanks as always to thequillofdestiny for reviewing! It was actually her desire to see Ike that made the chapter too long to be kept as one part (I got carried away writing the li'l genius). Enjoy! Review! Eat cookies! Live long and prosper! Don't forget to floss! And always take a towel!

**&*&*&*&**

Mephisto ushered Stan and Kyle down a corridor, barking orders at a passing Kelly to make something for them to eat. Both boys were anxious to see more of the Rebel Base (and hopefully, more of the Kelly's) but instead they were hustled into another smallish room, this one with several bookshelves jammed with scrapbooks and newspapers.

"You boys might like to see what's been happening since you've been away," said Mephisto, sounding distracted. "I'd better go and speak to Ike – and then maybe we can create some kind of environment for you to live in. It'll blend seamlessly with the reality you're used to."

"We're fine without all that," snapped Kyle. "Just go get my brother!"

Stan managed to wait until Mephisto left the room before speaking. "Ike's gonna be older than you now."

"I know."

"It's gonna be super weird."

"I _know_!"

Kyle didn't seem too interested in the rooms contents, so Stan wandered over to the bookshelves and checked out what was there. The newspapers were several years old and after a while, appeared to have been replaced by computer printouts of internet news, much of it from websites associated with Canadian and English newspapers. The scrapbooks held much the same thing. The earliest reports had an undercurrent of amusement, that an entire town had been taken over by a child. Later on, the situation was being treated as a great deal less funny.

A Kelly, presumably the one Mephisto had spoken to, entered the room with a tray, containing a large Thermos of soup and some cups, a second Thermos which upon closer inspection turned out to have coffee in it. Kyle took the items distractedly, pouring out some of the soup for them both and ignoring the coffee.

"Isn't there any bread?" asked Stan.

The clone shrugged. "Sorry. We have the ingredients, but no one's made any recently and we're all out."

"How exactly do you get supplies?" asked Kyle. "It doesn't seem likely that you can get much from foraging."

The Kelly looked at him as if he were insane. "This is Professor Chaos's base," she said, as if this explained everything. Upon seeing no reaction, she sighed. "Professor Chaos made sure the base was stocked with everything we could ever need, weapons, computers, you name it. We can't be traced down here, so we can stay here indefinitely if we need to. There's enough food to last a lifetime. Most of it's tinned or dried of course, nothing fresh, but we're not going to starve."

Kyle nodded and sipped absently at the soup, while Stan threw some of the printouts he'd been examining on the table and grabbed for his own cup. "So, according to these, the situation with Cartman doesn't look so good."

"There's been a few setbacks," replied the Kelly guardedly. "They have superior numbers and the rest of the country weren't much help. But we'll win in the end!"

"How?" asked Stan, minor scorn in his voice.

The Kelly shrugged, which caused her barely-clad bosom to move interestingly and neither boy caught her answer. It took them a couple of minutes to realise she seemed to be waiting for a reply and that they were staring.

"Ahem." Stan flushed and put his soup down hurriedly.

Before he could think of a cover story, there was a commotion in the corridor outside, not the heavy tread of Professor Chaos, but the raised voices of at least three people having an argument.

"...Could totally destroy the space-time continuum and cause significant damage to..." Mephisto's voice.

"I don't _give_ a shit!" A much younger voice, unfamiliar.

Another person, from somewhere further than the first two. "Dammit Broflovski!"

The door banged open and revealed a boy perhaps in his early teens standing at the other side. For all the fuss he had been making, he suddenly didn't seem to anxious to enter the room, instead freezing on the threshold and staring at the occupants of the room. Specifically at Kyle.

All Kyle could do was gape. The kid had grown up since he last saw him, but there was no mistaking the features of his baby brother, no matter how much time had altered him. Intellectually, he had known that Ike would have changed but somehow, he had expected a taller version of his three year old self. Instead, Ike sported the look of disaffected youth, black hair spiked up through constantly running his hands through it rather than by design, a couple of pimples on his forehead and a T-shirt and jeans that were in desperate need of a wash, or possibly disposal by hazardous waste experts. There was a silver hoop through his left eyebrow, the skin around it looking slightly red as if it hadn't been there long.

_Mom would have a fit if she saw that_ thought Kyle distractedly, then realised he still had his mouth open in shock and closed it hurriedly.

Ike finally managed to take a few steps into the room. "Jeez... I kinda remember you being taller."

Kyle stood up, eyebrow raised. "Well, _I_ kinda remember _you_ not being able to say much more than, 'I pooped my pants'!"

Ike flushed, glancing around at Mephisto, who was sniggering in the doorway. "Shit, you've been back five minutes and you're embarrassing me already!"

"It's a big brother thing."

"Yeah." Ike grinned and crossed the room, pulling Kyle into a slightly self-conscious hug. "I missed you bro."

"Me too Ike," replied Kyle, his voice breaking slightly, returning the hug with less concern than his brother showed.

"I never forgot how you looked out for me," continued Ike quietly. "I thought – I was sure you had to be dead. I knew if you were here, you'd be _here_, trying to stop fat ass."

There was a few moments silence, then the brothers released each other. Ike looked down at Kyle, noting the several inches height difference, then grinned. "Y'know, I'm thinking that 'kick the baby' might be more fun these days..."

"Don't even try it Ike! I'm still your big brother – um, older brother... ah shit. Something."

Ike snickered. "This is weird, isn't it?"

"Fucked up," agreed Kyle.

"At least the space-time continuum isn't making us all implode or whatever," said a new voice from by the door. Kyle turned and looked, but didn't recognise the boy at all.

"This is Filmore, remember him?" asked Ike casually.

Ah yes, the kid from Ike's class, Kyle recalled. Hadn't Ike been over there while he and Stan were being chased by the snow? But he would never have recognised him now. Filmore had been hurt somewhere in the missing years and a large, ugly scar bisected his face from above his left eye, over his nose, splitting his lip at the right corner and vanishing into the neck of his shirt. The scar was long healed and broken in places where Filmore had grown and the scar had not, but it was prominent enough to be the first thing anyone would notice about him. The second thing would be his walk. He leaned heavily on two canes that put Kyle in mind of their classmate Jimmy, or Stan's friend who had thought his own cane made him look more Goth. It was difficult to tell if Filmore was as tall as Ike or not because of the strange way his legs looked – too short, too stiff. Again, Kyle thought of Jimmy, but as far as he could remember, there had been no such issues with Filmore.

"Hey," said Filmore, ducking his face away with a scowl. Clearly he knew exactly what people thought when they saw him.

"The Prof's gonna want a meeting of some kind," said Ike. "There's you two turning back up and something strange going down at Camp Cartman and he'll want to address it. Even if it's just to tell us to carry on. It's the whole 'leader' thing, he takes it too far sometimes. Might as well head over to the control room and then I can show my 'little' brother around some."

"Hey!" objected Kyle.

"Sweet, sweet revenge," grinned Ike. "I'll introduce you to some people. We've got ages while Chaos puts on his formal cape or whatever."

"No one seems that intimidated by Professor Chaos," mused Stan as the group headed off deeper into the base.

"Well, you don't wanna cross him when he's in one of his pissy moods," replied Ike, striving to sound casual but with underlying tension in his voice. "He's pretty unpredictable. But he's doing everything he can think of and he kept us all safe all this time, we all respect him... it's just kinda hard to take him seriously sometimes."

"He's like a kid playing dress up," added Filmore. "Stamping around and coming up with evil schemes and yelling about how he'll take over the world once Cartman's out of the way. But none of his plans ever really _help_ things."

"It's too much for him," continued Ike. "Whatever happened when him and Cartman struck that deal, it fried his brain. He wanted to be Professor Chaos, but that meant adding twenty years to him right away, and overdosing his system with testosterone. And then he ended up with responsibility for us. I think he's scared shitless. If he screws up, it could cost all of us our lives but if he does nothing then Cartman wins and we'll probably all be killed anyway. He was out for revenge y'know, not responsibility. It's enough to fuck anyone up."

"Most of us were just kids when we got here," Filmore reminded them. "There was only a few adults. But by the time the rest of us were old enough to do something, Cartman's power had spread too far. There's not enough of us to make a dent in his _authoritah_."

"But there's only two adults now, according to what Kenny said," Stan pointed out. "Mephisto and the Professor."

"Three if you count Scott," said Filmore dryly. "We usually try not to."

"Six if you count Kenny and Token and Pip," said Ike.

Kyle sighed. "They're barely legal!"

"And lots if you count the Kelly's," said Filmore, slightly more cheerfully.

"They're barely legal either," Stan commented.

"There were more people around at the beginning," said Filmore, clearly choosing his words carefully. "But we've been fighting a _war. _There were a lot of casualties over the years. The main reason the people here are still around is because we were too young for most of the fighting at the start."

"Chaos _still_ thinks we're too young," added Ike, a note of peevishness in his voice.

"At least he doesn't think _you're_ incapable," snapped Filmore, glancing down at his canes.

"What the hell happened that day?" asked Kyle, unable to hide his curiosity any longer. "How did you all come to be together anyway? Or did Chaos find you later on?"

Ike shrugged. "Sort of both. Most people who got stuck in South Park were split up at first, but we joined up together a bit later on."

"I don't really remember any of it," said Ike bitterly. "Just that we were playing something – cars I think – then just noise and pain and running. I mean, I _know_ what happened, I just don't really remember it."

"It's pretty confused," agreed Ike. "One minute we were sat in the house, then there was a noise and the windows all caved in. Filmore's mom was out in the back, hanging washing I think... we couldn't go that way though, so we ran out of the front door shouting for help. But no one was paying us any attention, which was pretty weird because we were only kindergärtners. Everyone was just running around and yelling."

"There was just noise and smoke and confusion," said Filmore. "I kept trying to go back inside the house because my mom would be pissed and Ike was trying to get us away. It was crazy."

"Then we started walking down the street," Ike said. "I _think_ I might have wanted us to get home, y'know, to our house. There was a mob just screaming and cars that had run off the road. A couple of cars came past us, going hell for leather, but I didn't see any cops and it was like no one was trying to keep any order. Then this _other _car came along, heh, no way was it street legal. One of the tyres was totally flat and it was spewing enough smoke to give an environmentalist a heart attack. But it pulled up alongside us and the driver got out."

"Carol McCormick," remembered Filmore with a smile. "Damn, I didn't know whether to be more scared of her then I was of what was happening. She had a shotgun in one hand, a bottle of vodka in the other and she just looked – crazy. She ran around the side of the car and hustled us into the back seat, then got back in and tore off. I guess she recognised Ike."

"Well, she kept on calling me 'Mike' anyway."

"Yeah. Started going on about how she had to find her husband and kids. So she's almost flying down the road, heading to the bar she said, because that's where her husband said he was going, then she hits the brakes and we both went flying off the seats and onto the floor. Probably lucky we didn't go through the window. We didn't see, but a kid had run out in front of the car without looking and she nearly hit him. She leans out of the window and tells him to get into the car before he gets himself killed and he says..."

Unexpectedly, Filmore started laughing and Kyle frowned, unable to see the humour. "What?"

Filmore grinned. "He says, 'I'm terribly sorry, but I'm not supposed to get into a car when the driver has been drinking.'"

"Pip," said Kyle and Stan simultaneously, exchanging glances.

"Right," said Filmore. "I dunno what she said, she just kinda yelled and he leapt in and we took off again..." He trailed off, looking at Ike. "That's all I remember."

Ike nodded. "She yelled something at Pip about how he'd be killed if he stayed and Pip got into the car. Carol took off again and Pip grabbed us off the floor and managed to belt us in the seats. Probably saved our lives right there. A bit further down the road there was another explosion and the car went skidding sideways. Carol screamed, I think, then there was a bang – the tyre blowing out. She was trying to get the car under control, all three of us in the back were screaming and crying – but I _think_ she got it back on the road. We were going in a straight line for a second anyway, but there was this huge crash from the front of the car and we flipped right over."

"Carol shouldn't have been driving," said Filmore defensively, noting the horrified expressions on Kyle and Stan's faces. "But she couldn't exactly wait around to sober up either. With the panic and half the town coming down around our heads, she didn't have much of a choice. She was the only person who stopped to take care of _us_."

"The only other thing I remember about that it waiting in the car," said Ike. "Filmore might have been unconscious, he wasn't saying anything. Pip wasn't moving, but he was breathing heavily so I'm pretty sure he was watching. The car was on it's roof and all squashed up, it'd been there like that for a while because everything had quietened down. There was some noise but not the mob panic there had been before, no explosions, hardly any gunshots and they were all in the distance. But there were people in the streets, soldiers you could tell. They were organised, carrying weapons and looking around for people. I wanted to shout over and tell them we were trapped under here, but Carol had her hand over my mouth. She kept whispering that she didn't think the soldiers were our friends..." Ike shrugged. "Don't remember anything after that, except being here."

"The crash was how I lost my legs," said Filmore.

Stan and Kyle stared at Filmore's legs, finally working out what was up. Under his jeans, they were misshapen and skinny and his walk was careful, not to mention the canes.

"Just from the knee," continued Filmore irritably. "Mephisto did his best with prosthetics, but we're not exactly in a position to do much more than rudimentary replacements."

"I've cloned the limbs," interrupted Mephisto. "But so far, surgery to reattach them has not gone well. It might be that the time between severing the legs and reattaching the cloned legs was too long... I'm working on it."

There was an awkward pause, that Ike eventually broke. "Carol turned into Sarah fucking Conner when Kenny was the only other McCormick to be found. Managed to break _into_ the stronghold four years ago and take a few shots at Cartman. According to our spies, for a moment everyone thought he was hit, but there wasn't a scratch on him and Carol was caught and executed." Ike scowled thoughtfully. "Always thought that was weird, Carol was a great shot and if she got that close, she shouldn't have missed. Hell. Maybe the fat fuck was wearing Kevlar."

"This is the main control room," interrupted Filmore before either Stan or Kyle could ask the question that was on both their minds – news of their own parents. Kenny had said there was no news either good or bad, but it was also possible he wasn't telling the whole truth. He'd certainly been very evasive about the people they knew in town and where they were now.

The control room was the same room that Stan and Kyle had briefly been rushed through upon their arrival to the base. Several Kelly's sat around, apparently monitoring computers and television broadcasts. Upon their arrival, several jumped up and dashed over.

"Ike!"

"Hi Filmore!"

"Who're the newbies Ike?"

"This is my brother Kyle, and his friend Stan," replied Ike, grinning at the girls. Filmore spotted someone in the corner and gestured with a jerk of his head, the pair going over with Kyle and Stan trailing behind, as Mephisto remained with the Kelly's.

"Why are those girls always so pleased to see everyone?" asked Stan.

"Mephisto thought it'd be nice to get a friendly greeting after fighting to save the country," replied Filmore.

"I thought it was Kenny's idea," said Ike with a smirk.

"God bless that pervert," said Ike fervently.

"So, which one is the original Kelly?" continued Stan curiously.

"Oh, the original was killed a few years back," said Filmore. "Mephisto tried to clone a few other people but none of them worked as well as she did. It's something to do with the ageing process of the clones, accelerating their maturity doesn't work well with everyone but she had something in her DNA that made it possible."

"I could explain it," said Ike.

"Please don't," replied Filmore in a voice Kyle recognised – it was the same tone Stan used when he thought his friend was getting unnecessarily technical. Perhaps he and Ike were similar even if they weren't brothers in the strictest sense of the word. "Do you guys remember Scott? Maybe not. Scott, this is Ike's brother Kyle and his friend Stan."

"I remember them," said Scott, turning his head to them. He was shockingly skinny, almost emaciated, a wild mop of russet curls hanging around his pale face and his eyes wide. On the desk in front of him were several screwdrivers and a dissembled rifle with telescopic sight. "You told me the pony would bite off my weiner."

Ike gave a pained smile. "Um, Scott has a rather unique relationship with reality, don't worry about it too much..."

"It's true, we did tell him that," said Stan guiltily. "We didn't know Cartman wanted us to!"

"Oh hell." Ike palmed his face. "I didn't know you guys were involved in the chilli incident."

"Cartman fed me my parents," continued Scott in a cheery voice that was at odds with the information he was giving. "Then he gave me a muffin basket, to apologise. Who knows what was in it this time? But once we fix him, he won't be able to mess with the food again. We'll all be safe."

"Sure we will Scott," said Kyle.

Ike pulled them away. "Damn, I didn't know. Scott's a bit unhinged but he's really studied weapons and tactics. I know he's a little..."

"Psycho?" suggested Stan.

"Well yeah, but he's good at what he does."

"Oh, well that makes up for it," said Kyle with heavy sarcasm.

Token and Pip chose that moment to enter the control room themselves, spotted the group and headed over to them. Token remained stoic, but Pip managed a genuine smile. "Hello Stan, hello Kyle. It's excellent to see you're not dead. Sorry about our rudeness earlier, we had something important to discuss."

"Where's Kenny?" asked Stan.

"Dead," replied Token flatly.

Filmore rolled his eyes. "Chaos again?"

"He has a lot to be concerned about right now," said Pip.

"So, let me get this straight," said Kyle. "The entire Resistance has been reduced to a bunch of clones and a few people who mostly wouldn't be able to vote yet,_ if_ anyone were still voting. You've given guns to an crazy anorexic, the leader is a homicidal megalomaniac without a clue what he's doing, Kenny's out of commission until he comes back to life again and the sanest people in the whole base are _twelve_?"

"Um, I'm thirteen," objected Filmore.

Kyle rounded on Token, aware that he was attracting attention but really not caring any more. "Does _anyone_ here have a plan or are we sitting around here waiting to be blown up?"

Token regarded the nine year old, unimpressed by the outburst. "We've done pretty much everything we can. Unless something changes, we're out of options."

"Well, you could..." Kyle trailed off. "Um, you could... uh..."

Filmore shook his head. "We've done everything and we're not the only people fighting against Cartman. There's nothing else we can do until we know his next plan."

"And probably not even then," added Ike gloomily.

"God _dammit_," muttered Stan. "We get unfrozen for this shit?"


	8. Chapter 8

**Author Note: **Many thanks as always to thequillofdestiny for reviewing! The next chapter will take a little longer to arrive than this one did, but I'll have it up in a decent amount of time. Reviews make for an author with a happy glow! As does snow - since it's actually snowing properly in my town for the first time in three years. You can understand why I need to frolic instead of write!

**&*&*&*&**

The door at the far end of the control room was thrown open and Kenny stormed in, looking uncharacteristically pissed off.

"Hey Kenny," chorused the group.

"Kenny!" The Kelly's seemed much more enthusiastic, but for once Kenny seemed unimpressed by the attention. Instead he hurried over to Token and Pip, barely acknowledging the others.

"Something's going down," he said without preamble. "Some kind of final battle. And it's happening _soon_."

Pip raised an eyebrow. "How do you know?"

"Satan said so. I'm sure he's not lying."

"So – what do we do?"

Kenny shook his head in frustration. "That's all he told me and he wouldn't even have told me that if he thought we could stop it. All we can do is be prepared for something. For anything."

Token scowled. "That's _it_?"

"Cartman's making a wish."

There was a moments silence, then Pip sighed. "Oh bollocks."

"Ike!"

The shout came from a Kelly stood in front of a computer monitor. Ike rushed over there, followed by the rest of the group, who could tell something important was going on. "What?"

"We're getting a coded message of some kind. It's gone over the hidden server, so it's from someone who knows the protocols."

Ike dropped into the seat next to the Kelly and began typing rapidly. Kyle raised his eyebrows. "Hidden server?"

"Chaos made this place unfindable," said Ike without taking his eyes from the screen. "All our computer traffic can't be traced. There's a way to contact us through mail, but few people know about it and even that can't be traced. We call it the hidden server."

"Huh," said Filmore, looking over Ike's shoulder. "Whoever it is has plenty of security measures themselves."

"Yup, no one could crack this normally," said Ike, smirking slightly and cracking his knuckles as they gained access. "Unless their name's Ike Broflovski of course."

"But it doesn't _mean_ anything," said Filmore as he looked at the lines of apparent gibberish in the message. "It's not any of the codes we usually use!"

Pip suddenly laughed. "Oh yes it is! It's translated into code, but the original message looks like it was written in French."

Token raised an eyebrow. "The Mole?"

"The Mole," agreed Pip. "Um, is anyone's French better than mine? I can only understand a little."

Stan frowned. "I thought you _were_ French."

"I shall choose to ignore that," muttered Pip through gritted teeth.

Ike grabbed a piece of paper and began scribbling furiously. "Right, this is the code translation in French. Anyone any ideas? And hurry. I need to respond and close down."

"I thought no one could trace it," said Stan.

"I'm not taking any chances if I don't have to," retorted Ike. "Scott, get over here, see if you understand any of this."

"That's likely," muttered Token under his breath.

"_Rassemblement_ means some kind of gathering," said Scott smugly as he checked the paper, having overheard some of Token's comment. "And I would have thought_ immédiatement_ was obvious."

"I know_ échappé _means escape," said Token. "My dad brought my mom some perfume back from Paris one time and I asked about the name."

"Oh, you've _been_ to Paris and you're ragging on _me_ for not speaking French?" Scott snorted.

"That was my dad, not me! Anyway, I was seven."

"I don't know about the rest," said Filmore. "But isn't _oiseau _some kind of snail you eat?"

"He wants us to meet him because his snail's escaped?" Stan frowned. "Dude, the French are weird."

"That doesn't mean snail!" said Kyle impatiently. "You're thinking of _escargots. _It means horse."

"No, that's _equestrian_," said Pip, trying not to sound annoyed. "I think it's to do with birds. Ospreys or something."

"Talking in riddles, I'll flip _him_ the bird..." Token trailed off and exchanged a startled glance with Pip and Kenny.

"Craig?" suggested Pip.

"Has to be," said Token.

"Al-_right_!" Kenny grinned. "Finally, some good news! Ike, tell them we're on our way and cut the communication."

"Done," replied Ike, typing the message.

"None of Cartman's prisoners have even lived this long, let alone escaped from the camp," said Token suspiciously.

"But the Mole _did_ say he was still alive," Kenny reminded him. "We have to find out if it's true. I'll go. What's the worst that can happen, I get killed?"

"Exactly," replied Pip. "You're a magnet for it and you know Craig can't find his way back without us now he's been captured, thanks to Chaos's wish. I'll go. The Mole knows me and he never even met you."

Kenny looked about to argue this point when there was another shout, this time from a Kelly across the room, monitoring television activity. "Hey! We got something!"

"What now?" Token strode over to her, peering over her shoulder. "Ah shit."

"Token?" The tone in Kenny's voice made it clear that he expected the worst. "What is it?"

"Cartman," replied Token, clenching his fists. "He's sending out a broadcast to all known stations – the UN, everyone. We've intercepted it. Looks like he has something major he wants to gloat about. They're preparing to transmit in five – most likely to make sure he has the maximum audience."

"He's done something," said Kenny. "He wouldn't be doing this unless he thought he had victory in his hands."

Token nodded. "Go get Chaos, Kenny. I think he'd best hear this as soon as it comes on."

Kenny almost flew out of the door as the rest of the room sprang into action, most gathering in front of the large screen. One Kelly hurried over to a control pad and hit a button, flashing lights and a muted siren giving an alarm all over the base. In the next couple of minutes, there was a large crowd gathered, most of them Kelly's.

Professor Chaos was emerging from his room in response to the sirens when Kenny almost crashed into him. The leader glared at the teenager. "You got back quickly."

"I was helped," said Kenny darkly. "Cartman's about to make some big announcement. He's used up another wish."

Chaos narrowed his eyes. "That's at least four."

"That we know about," said Kenny. "We don't know what else he might have done. But this is it, the end of the war is _coming_ Butters, _now_. There _has_ to be something that can be done!"

Ignoring the use of his name, Chaos shook his head. "I can't act directly against Cartman, just like he can't against me. It's part of the contract."

"Then we have to think of something else! We should have put a stop to this a long time ago. _I_ should have."

"It's not like we haven't tried." Chaos sighed, allowing a little weakness to show through since only Kenny was around. "Let's go see what he has to say. Maybe this is the time he'll mess up."

"I hope so," replied Kenny, speaking the words to himself as Chaos had already strode away down the corridor. "I really do."

Professor Chaos barged into the control room and made his way to the monitor, everyone else moving out of his way before they could be knocked down and trod on. There was a countdown on the screen, the seconds ticking away until the message appeared. The remainder of the Rebels peered around him or grabbed something to stand on, determined to see the screen. Stan and Kyle merely ducked around everyone and pushed to the front, being shorter than everyone else finally having an advantage.

And then the countdown ended and the screen cut to show Eric Cartman.

Neither Stan nor Kyle had seen a picture of the person they had once known since they had found themselves in the future, but they would have had no problem recognising him even if they had not known who he was. He was still fat, less rounded in the face than he had been as a child but with the same heavy jowls and fleshy features. He was clean shaven and his hair was neatly styled, but his eyes still retained their gleeful sparkle and the smug smile around his mouth was perfectly familiar.

"Son of a bitch," murmured Stan quietly. There had been a part of him that really hadn't believed Cartman could do all the things he had been credited for, even knowing what he did about the boy. Kyle, who had harboured no such illusions, merely growled.

The man who currently controlled most of the United States and had an eye on the rest of the world was seated behind a stately looking desk, a portrait of himself behind it. In spite of the muted nod to status, everything else that could be seen on the screen was starkly functional and a soldier stood at either side of the man.

Cartman didn't look at the camera immediately, instead shuffling through some papers and giving the air of someone in the middle of something very important that had his full attention. Kyle clenched his fists angrily. It was a blatant ploy, typically Cartman.

Looking up at the camera as if surprised by it, Cartman laid the papers aside, lacing his fingers together and giving a politicians smile at the screen. "Ah, hello. Thank you for tuning in to my broadcast. I assure you, it will be worth your while." He gave a small, humourless laugh and the tension within the Rebel base grew as the moment spun out.

"As we are all aware, _I_ am the leader of the majority of America, as well as several of the Southerly regions of Canada. Apparently concerned by this, the majority of World Leaders have called me a threat and decided to unite against me, in the event I decide to spread my rule further. But I say to all of you that there is no reason for us to stand divided! It is in everyone's interests that a peaceful resolution to this – _conflict_ is made."

There was a muted buzz among the Rebels, quietened quickly. Stan nudged Kyle and indicated to where Kenny, Token and Pip stood, beside Professor Chaos. None of the four looked happy.

"They don't buy it," whispered Stan.

"Therefore, I suggest to the rest of the world – purely in the interests of peace – that every nation on the planet immediately grant sovereignty to me."

Here Cartman paused, almost as if he heard the cries of outrage coming from the Rebel base and was waiting for order to be restored. Insults were thrown at the screen, declarations of defiance, several choice invitations of where Cartman could shove his suggestion. Professor Chaos didn't attempt to silence them, instead waiting for the rest of the message with his arms folded, head inclined slightly but his eyes never leaving the screen.

The break in Cartman's speech lasted almost two minutes and although he never took his eyes from the camera, his grin grew wider. It was clear that there was more to come and when he began talking again, that was quickly confirmed.

"I'm aware that many countries have nuclear weapons readied in case of attack, many of them no doubt trained right in my location. I'm also aware that fear of the consequences for yourselves has meant not using them. Perhaps, ladies and gentlemen, you might like to do some checking on your security systems. You'll find they have been breached – and that only _I_ am able to have them detonated."

"Fucking _shit_!" Kenny exploded, making everyone around him jump.

Cartman leant forward, the smile gone from his lips although amusement still shone through his expression. "You have six hours. That's more than enough time to do your checks and find out that I'm telling the truth. I suggest you broadcast notice of your surrender before then."

"Oh! And I almost forgot," he added, the slight smile returning and his posture relaxing slightly. "Any country that voluntarily surrenders to me will enjoy the same fabulous perks as those people already under my protection. I remind you that nothing and no one has been able to launch a successful attack on us. This means a guarantee; anyone who _does _surrender will be unharmed by any fallout from nuclear incident. Nothing can harm those countries under my protection, as I think I've already proven. Those who reject my gesture however – well, there won't be a second warning and I won't bother launching anything at you. I can have those missiles detonate right where they are and vaporise anything and any_one_ within the blast radius."

The Rebel base lapsed into total, tomb-like silence.

"I expect to hear from you within six hours," said Cartman jovially. "Have a nice day."

The camera picture cut off, the screen going to black. The silence remained, the Resistance members barely seeming to breathe.

Kyle was the first to break the silence, his voice uncharacteristically timid. "They'll give in. If Cartman's telling the truth, they won't have a choice."

"Oh, he's telling the truth," said Token bleakly.

Stan glanced around at the members of the Resistance, noting the dejection and failure etched in their features. "So – that's _it?_ There's _nothing_ we can do?"

Professor Chaos straightened his back and turned to face the other rebels. "We've got six hours. The other countries will try to leave surrender as long as possible, in case someone comes up with an idea. But the only people in a position to stage an attack are _us_."

Filmore looked around doubtfully. "We're not exactly an army anymore."

"Were we ever?" asked Chaos. "But you're right. If you wanna leave before all the fighting starts, I don't blame you. _I'm_ gonna try to stop Eric."

There was a pause, then Kenny rolled his eyes and smiled. "What the hell. I'm in."

"Nothing on my calendar for this evening," agreed Token.

"I'm English," added Pip. "Fighting's the national Friday night pastime."

"Kill the fatass!" whooped Scott, waving his fists in the air and gaining a round of cheers and assertions from the Kelly's.

"I'm there," added Ike, Filmore nodding his agreement.

"We wanna help," announced Kyle.

The Rebels went quiet and Ike frowned. "Kyle, you're _nine_. I forbid it!"

"We know Cartman better than almost anyone else in the room – probably even better than Kenny," said Stan reasonably. "We might be able to do _something_, even if it is just strategies. Maybe we can think of something you haven't already tried."

"Beside, the last time we got a nuke dropped on our heads, Butters saved our asses," added Kyle. "He's probably the safest person to be around right now."

Ike looked ready to argue, but Chaos cut them off, frowning at the use of his other name but seeming secretly pleased at the affirmation of his previous actions. "They can help, for now. Everyone get busy. We've got maybe an hour to get together _anything _that might help us. Ike, Filmore, take Stan and Kyle and check out what we know about the compound."

Kenny turned to Token and Pip. "Can you two go meet the Mole and Craig and get them back here without anyone being caught and shot?"

Token faked a hurt look. "You _doubt_?"

"We can be back with them in forty minutes," said Pip. "Mole said he wanted to be part of any action against Cartman, so that's someone else to even the odds a little."

The pair headed to the exit of the compound, checking their weapons and pulling their hoods over their heads as Kenny tried to share some of Pip's optimism. The Mole would have to be Rambo to get anywhere near evening the odds.

Shaking the thought, he glanced over to Scott, already heading excitedly to the weapons storage bunker, then over at Mephisto, who was requisitioning several Kelly's to help him. Kenny grinned and raised his voice over the noise. "You got something in the lab to help us?"

"Been working on a few things," replied Mephisto with a smirk of his own, taking off toward his lab followed by the clones. The remaining girls dashed in and out of the room, bringing with them anything they thought might be needed or useful.

Professor Chaos stood alone, staring at the blank monitor. Kenny approached him cautiously. "Hey Chaos, you ready for this?"

Chaos turned to him and Kenny noted the other rubbing his knuckles together distractedly. Behind the mask, the steely-eyed glare the man usually wore was gone, the expression remaining wholly Butters. But when he spoke, the determination remained the same.

"I'm ready. Guess I always knew it'd come down to us against them. Or him against me."

Not knowing how to reply, Kenny shrugged and looked at his feet.

"Hey, Kenny?"

"Yeah?"

"If – well, if Cartman wins, will you come visit me in Hell?"

"He might not win!"

"Even if he doesn't, I sold my soul," said Butters philosophically. "I'm going there anyway."

"Yeah," said Kenny quietly, wondering not for the first time why Butters had made such a decision. "Sure I'll visit."

"Thanks." Dropping his hands to his sides, the man regained his haughty posture. "Although our victory is assured. I am Professor Chaos, bringer of destruction and doom – Eric is no match for me!"

"How about Eric and a few hundred soldiers?"

"Yeah, uh, they might be a problem."

Kenny blinked as Professor Chaos began to walk away "You've got a plan then?"

Looking back over his shoulder, Chaos quirked his lip slightly and shook his head.

"But you're saying this is a fight we can't win!"

"So we do what we always do," replied Chaos, too quietly for anyone else to hear. "We fight anyway."


	9. Chapter 9

**Author Note: **This is the longest chapter to date and I get the terrible feeling that a lot of people are going to fucking hate me after reading. So the warnings; since the story takes place during a war, unpleasant shit happens. And the thanks; much love to thequillofdestiny and Loozje for the nice reviews!

**&*&*&*&**

Almost an hour later, Pip and Token returned with three other boys in tow. The rest of the Rebels paused what they were doing and examined the group curiously.

Kenny was the first one to move, racing across the room and tackle-glomping Craig. "Damn! You got out!"

"GAH!" yelled Craig, pushing Kenny away and flipping him off, but grinning as he did so. "You trying to break my back asshole?"

"Got yourself some new threads I see," smirked Kenny, raising an eyebrow at the ill-fitting uniform Craig still wore. "Looking _fabulous_."

Craig extended his other fist and a second finger joined the first.

A moment later, several Kelly's descended on Craig with enthusiastic greetings. Roundly ignored, the Mole pulled a cigarette from his pocket, stuck it between his lips and lit it. "Any time you want to fineesh the family fucking reunion..."

Token glanced at Craig. "You said you'd explain it."

Sighing, Craig indicated to the unfamiliar pair he had brought back with him. "Um, this is the Mole – he's been giving Pip and Token information about Cartman's stronghold. And, uh, he got all that off of Tweek here..."

Kenny stopped dead and took a second look at the twitching blonde, who was trying unsuccessfully to hide in the Mole's shadow. "Tweek? As in Tweek _Tweak_? _He's_ the informant?"

"We didn't believe it either, at first," said Token. "At least now we know what all the coffee was for."

"He broke me out of there," said Craig, voice sharpening as he made his point. "He's been working for us all this time, you guys gonna cut him a break?"

"Yeah, sure," said Kenny, still staring at Tweek. "It's just kinda – he's the last person I would have expected. Hey Tweek."

"AH! H-hey Kenny."

Kenny looked back over at Pip and Token. "Did you tell them about our other newbies?"

"Yeah," said Craig sarcastically before either could reply. "Stan and Kyle, trapped in an iceberg like Romeo and Juliet. Only in South Park."

"Actually, I think you might be a little confused there..." began Pip brightly, before Craig shot him a glare that shut him up.

Token rested a hand on Craig's shoulder. "It's good to have you back. I've been surrounded by blondes for months!"

"Hey!" objected Kenny, Pip and several Kelly's simultaneously.

The Mole ground his cigarette out on the ground, looking disinterested in the goings on. "Who 'as ze schematic of ze compound? Tweek and Craig can now fill in ze missing pieces."

"Me?" exclaimed Tweek. "You want me to – GAH! I mean, Jesus! What if it goes wrong, huh? That's way too much pressure!"

"No pressure," said Craig. "We'll still know more than we did about the inside of the stronghold."

"And if you're wrong, we'll all be dead so we can't beat up on you," added Kenny, but under his breath.

Token and Pip took off and Kenny led Craig, the Mole and Tweek over to the computer where Kyle, Ike, Stan and Filmore were working on a 3D image of the stronghold. There were a depressing amount of spaces mark 'unknown'.

Craig took one look at his former classmates and began to laugh heartily. "I always knew I'd end up taller than you Stan."

"Hey, shut up Craig! We got frozen!"

"I heard. That sort of thing always happens to you guys."

Tweek nervously began pointing out the areas on the map where he knew what lay there. He had a good amount of information, but there was still a large area in the centre of the base that had been off-limits to him and he had no idea what lay within. He also didn't know where Cartman's location was. He hadn't laid eyes on the man in all the time he'd been there.

"It narrows down the search though," said Kyle thoughtfully. "He has to be in this unknown area somewhere. It'd explain the heightened security too."

"So all we have to do is get past all these other areas, into the centre of the stronghold, and then we can go looking for him." Ike sighed. "How do we even make it that far?"

The Mole snorted. "Zat's easy. We dig."

"All the way into the secured area without anyone realising?" Kyle shook his head. "It'd take forever and we'd be caught right away."

"_Non. _We dig into ze compound and from zere, we break into teams. Ze first team emerge from ze hole, create a distraction while ze remainder dig into ze secure area."

"Suicide mission for the first team," said Ike.

"And Kyle's right about it taking too long," added Craig. "We only have a few hours."

"You 'ave ze clones," said the Mole, indicating to a Kelly across the room. "And you 'ave no better ideas for getting into ze stronghold."

Kenny and Craig both looked uncomfortable. Although the whole purpose of having the Kelly's was so that they had cannon fodder, neither was happy about deliberately sending them out to die.

"We should just see what we find weapons-wise before we make any definite plans," said Ike, breaking the awkwardness. "And Chaos might have some plan up his sleeve. If he had sleeves."

"How likely is _that_?" asked Craig sceptically.

"Not very," admitted Filmore.

"GAH!" Tweek tugged at his hair. "We're all gonna die!"

"We're not gonna... ah hell." Craig sighed. "I'm gonna get Tweek some coffee and find us something to wear. I don't want Scott having one of his episodes and shooting us."

Grabbing Tweek, Craig headed off, passing Mephisto on the way. The scientist looked far too pleased with himself and was followed by several Kelly's, each carrying or pushing what appeared to be boxes covered with sheets. It appealed to the man's sense of the dramatic.

"What've you got for us?" asked Kenny curiously.

"Behold!" Mephisto whipped the covering off the largest box, revealing three monkeys in a cage. Each was about three feet high and equally as wide across, thanks to hugely overdeveloped shoulders and muscular arms.

"These super-primates have the strength of two men apiece! They are highly developed, follow instructions exactly..."

The Mole interrupted him. "Can zey dig?"

"Obsessive much?" muttered Ike under his breath.

Mephisto nodded. "Yes, probably faster than anyone else here could."

Walking around the cage and eyeing the monkeys critically, The Mole suddenly stopped and raised his eyes to glare at the scientist. "Zis monkey 'as four asses."

"It's an evolutionary leap."

"We will 'ave to dig our way through their sheet if we follow zem!"

"It's my monkey and I'll give it as many asses as I like!"

"And 'ow much are you expecting zem to sheet?"

"That's the exciting part! The primates excretions contain a toxin of my own design, which cause temporary blindness on contact with the eyes and temporary paralysis if ingested. Preliminary tests show an eighty seven per cent projectile accuracy."

"Huh?"

"The monkeys fling poisoned poop," translated Ike.

"You 'ave got to be fucking joking." The Mole looked skywards. "Lets move to America, my muzzer says. Eet will be a fresh start after ze leetle incident in Normandy, my muzzer says. _Oui_, and maybe ze country will be taken over by a tyrant whom we are supposed to defeat with a group of children and some sheet-slinging monkeys! Zis is because you hate me, isn't it God? Zis is why you torment me in zis way!"

"You probably don't want to hear about the aerial assault team then," said Mephisto helpfully.

The Mole sank into a nearby chair and took a cigarette from the battered pack. "I am going to die. _Again_."

"It gets easier with practice," said Kenny with fake sympathy.

Scott rushed into the room, brandishing a rifle over his head. "I have for you, my fellow Freedom Fighters, a fucking arsenal. Enough guns to blow Cartman's fat ass into a billion pieces! Bombs! Grenades! Ammo! A freaking _flame-thrower_!"

Kenny grinned. "What, no tank?"

"I thought we were going for subtlety."

"Yeah. Um... are you wearing warpaint?"

"So I can blend into the background!"

"Right," said Kenny. To one side, the Mole rose to his feet, walked over to the wall and began to rhythmically pound his head against it.

"That's a surprisingly common reaction when encountering Scott for the first time," said Pip, entering the room. "We're going to need a couple of guns each, plenty of ammunition. But I suppose we should wait for Professor Chaos before we start dividing up weapons."

Kenny shot a longing glance at the extremely large gun that one of the Kelly's was bringing into the room. "Why?"

"Because." Pip's eyes slid to Kyle, Stan, Filmore and Ike before returning to Kenny. "We don't know what our roles are going to be yet – or who's going and who's staying behind."

"Time's about up anyway," said Kenny, checking the cheap watch on his wrist, swiped from a looted shop early in the conflict because he thought the glow in the dark face would come in useful. "Chaos'll be back any moment."

"And I get the flame-thrower," said Scott stubbornly.

Kenny and Pip exchanged disturbed looks, but Pip tried to look encouraging. "Why?"

"Because! When I kill fatass, I'm gonna flambé him and then eat the remains!" Scott pulled a couple of packets from the pocket of his combat pants. "I have seasoning! Seasoning!"

The Mole quit banging his head into the wall and shook his fist at the ceiling. "You think zis is funny God? Tell me 'ow I deserve this sheet!"

"Enough."

Professor Chaos strode into the room, sombre and imposing. His stance was confident but much of the aura of arrogance was gone. "Summon everyone here. Let's get this over with."

Kenny went over to the control panel and hit a button, which set off a muted siren. Within a couple of minutes everyone in the base had gathered in the room.

Chaos checked out what passed for the Resistance and refrained from sighing. Kenny, Token and Pip were in pretty good shape and used to covert operations in trying to stop Cartman. Craig had the same experience, but after several months of captivity wasn't in the best physical health. Tweek stood next to Craig, wearing a change of clothes that probably belonged to Pip but still twitching uncontrollably. How much use he was going to be was debatable. Mephisto had spent most of the years since the war began locked in his lab and occasionally cackling. Scott was a damn good shot but totally insane and unpredictable. The Mole was by all accounts excellent at what he did, but still an unknown factor since none of them really knew the first thing about him. Ike had been training in guns, but he'd never been involved in any major operations in any way save as contact, sitting safely in the base. Filmore couldn't hold a gun and walk at the same time.

Stan and Kyle might have been involved in some strange shit in their time, but they were still only nine.

Then there were the Kelly's, cloned fighting machines – but still only forty of them, not many against an army. Oh, and three poop-slinging monkeys and what, according to Mephisto, were toxic incontinent pigeons. He hadn't dared ask how many asses they had.

Professor Chaos glanced over at Ike and Filmore. "Did you find a way into the stronghold?"

"Tweek filled in a lot of the blanks," said Filmore. "And Mole thinks he knows how to get in, but we need a distraction."

Nodding, Chaos seemed to come to a decision. "Okay. Show me, Tweek, Mole, you too. Scott, split the weapons and make sure everyone has enough to cause serious mayhem. And everyone..."

He swept his eyes across the gathered Rebels, ignoring how few they were and how ill-prepared they seemed, trying not to see the people they had lost over the years who they could really do with now. Instead, he noted the determination they held, the way that none of them had told him they would not participate in what was almost certainly a suicide mission.

"This is the last chance. The _last_ chance. If we fail now, then Cartman has _won_. We _can't_ fail."

There was a moments silence, then Kenny spoke. "We won't."

Scott made as if to move, but Chaos hadn't finished. "Leave enough weapons behind so everyone left in the base can defend themselves if they need to. Filmore, I need you on the radio, but we'll be using silence unless we have to break cover. You need to contact the United Nations should we – _when_ we succeed. And since you'll be here, you can keep an eye on Kyle and Stan. Ike, you're coming with us. Okay, let's go."

"Wait!"

Kyle stared at Chaos in disbelief. "You're not seriously letting Ike go out there with you?"

"We need as many people as possible," replied Chaos dismissively.

"He's not even thirteen! Goddammit Butters, I'm not gonna let you take my baby brother into a war zone even if the world _is_ at stake!"

"I don't think you're in a position to demand anything." Chaos glared at Kyle, who scowled back, unintimidated.

There was silence from the rest of the Rebels and Kyle broke eye contact with Chaos to look around them. "You guys aren't really gonna let him go with you, are you?"

No one replied. Most of them couldn't meet Kyle's eyes, looking at the floor or off to the side. Only the Mole was able to look directly at him, something akin to sympathy in his face. And Kenny, who Kyle had counted among his best friends, was merely staring unhappily at the ground, obviously wanting to speak but rejecting the words as they came to his mind.

"Well _fuck you_!" he exploded. "I'm never gonna forget that you let my little brother go out to be _murdered_. If anything happens to him, I'll _never_ forgive you!"

He turned his back on the group, partly for dramatic effect, partly because he didn't want them to see tears starting up in his eyes. Stan, stood beside him, put an arm over his shoulders but Kyle shook it off. He didn't want comforting, he wanted Chaos to demand Ike stay behind.

Ike stepped forward and rested a hand on Kyle's shoulder, a frown on his face. "Kyle – look. I need to do this. Even if Chaos told me not to go, I'd be going with them. If we _don't_ do this now, then all of us will be killed anyway. We have to take a stand and we have to stop Cartman, or else everything we've done, everyone who died, all that was for nothing."

"You're just a kid," snapped Kyle.

"We all are," said Ike, indicating to the other Rebels and stopping as he noticed Mephisto. "Well, mostly. But we're the only ones who can stop Cartman."

Kyle sighed. "I don't like this."

"I'm not exactly singing in the streets about it either," said Ike with a small smile. "I planned to spend my teenage years playing Halo and eating junk food. We could use you helping Filmore out on the radio and checking the computer schematics."

"I guess so," said Kyle, defeated. It was hard to look out for a baby brother who was not only no longer a baby but in reality was several years older than him.

"Cool." Ike turned back tot he rest of the Rebels. "Are we doing this or what?"

"Right." Scott hurried over to the weapons he had been stockpiling and examined them critically, deciding which would be preferable for the job at hand.

Chaos strode over to the computer bearing the known layout of Cartman's stronghold. "Mole, show me the entrance plan you've come up with. Tweek, I could do with your help too."

"M-my help?" Tweek looked ready to pass out.

"We need to hit them hard and..." Chaos cut himself off as a light on the control panel began to flash urgently. "Filmore. What's this?"

Filmore frowned as he saw the light. "Motion sensors found something moving overhead. Probably a troop of soldiers, they come past sometimes. We're safe enough down here, since the base can't be located."

As if to prove Filmore a liar, an explosion rocked the base as the computerised door leading to the outside blew inwards, showering the room with steel shards. Before the smoke could clear, soldiers began pouring through the narrow entrance. Soldiers wearing the uniform and insignia of Cartman's troops.

The Rebels, caught completely off guard, froze. None of them were wearing weapons – only Scott, who was stood by the arsenal he had stockpiled, was within easy reach of anything. Guns pointed at them, tight in the unwavering grip of their enemies.

One of the soldiers took a step forward, a gun in one hand, some kind of remote device in the other. A tallish girl with a black plait hanging down her back, she smirked at the group. Recognition dawned on Stan and he let his mouth fall open incredulously.

"_Wendy?"_

"You can surrender right away and make it easier on yourselves," she said in her melodious voice. "Or you can resist and be shot."

Professor Chaos seemed in a state of shock himself. "You _couldn't _have found this place!"

"We didn't find the place," replied Wendy, holding up the remote device. "We found the person."

All eyes turned to Craig as he snorted. "Bullshit. I would have noticed if I had a tracer chip implanted and never come back here."

"Actually, it's standard issue for anyone working in the stronghold. Not that they all know about it." Wendy pressed a button on the remote device and the flashing green light immediately changed to an unblinking red.

Tweek made a strangled sound that might have been one of his usual panicked noises – then his hands flew up to his chest, fluttering. Before anyone could ask him what was wrong, the shirt he was wearing seemed to blow open, buttons scattering, and his chest burst outwards. Wet chunks of meat splattered to the floor and Tweek's lifeless body fell backwards, ribcage exposed.

"Oh my God!" screamed Stan, nauseated. "You killed Tweek!"

"You bastards!" added Kyle.

Wendy turned, obviously startled to see the pair – but before she could respond, Chaos answered the question of whether or not the Rebels would surrender without a fight by summoning an energy ball and heaving it at the soldiers. Wendy dived out of the way, several other soldiers following her example, those who acted more slowly turning into little more than charred skeletons.

Scott dropped to the floor, grabbing a machine gun from the top of his arsenal and spraying the enemy with bullets, trying to force them back as the rest of the Rebels also headed for the weapons. He might have a tenuous hold on reality, but he could immediately see a major problem; the Rebel base was too confined for a major fire fight. It would play badly for the soldiers at first, but they would gain the upper hand – and there was no way to hold them back. The Rebels couldn't attack freely for fear of hitting their own people and once they were forced back from their arsenal, they were finished anyway. All their ammo, all the weapons on the base, were in that room.

That meant no grenades to thin the ranks of the enemy. Total confusion and disorder among the combatants. And even if they ran, the only place to go was further into the base, where they would be hunted down.

This was the end. The Rebellion finished. The final, desperate gambit would not even happen.

But they weren't going down without a fight.

Staying behind Scott, Token raced toward the weapons and snatched the first things that came to hand, two magnums, which he threw underhand in Pip's direction. The Englishman caught them gracefully and took off in the other direction, taking the time and care to aim carefully even as he tried to find some semblance of cover. Token continued to hand out the guns in a desperate attempt to arm them all before they could pick off Scott, who was covering him.

Kenny managed to get hold of a semi-automatic and a shotgun, stuffing the latter into his belt as he noticed how light it was. Sending up a prayer that he would stay alive long enough to be of _some_ use, he began exchanging fire with the soldiers. Beside him, the Mole had found a shotgun and was systematically picking off the soldiers closest to the escape route, an unlit cigarette still firm between his lips even as he mumbled a string of curses against the universe in general and God in particular.

Wendy looked around to see Craig heading right for her.

There was a Beretta in his right hand, a puny thing compared to some of the weapons on offer but good enough to kill; in his left hand was a combat knife that would be little use unless he could get close up to an opponent. As she scrambled from the floor, where she had dived after Chaos threw the energy ball at them, she noted him shoot one soldier who stood between him and her. A bullet whizzed past and ripped through the fabric of Craig's top, skinning the flesh from beneath it but certainly not enough to stop him. He was coming deliberately after _her_.

She raised her own weapon and fired.

Craig wasn't on the list of people that Cartman wanted taken alive but she didn't think he would object if they brought him back in; it would probably appeal to their leaders sense of irony, letting the man escape long enough to have a taste of freedom before re-capturing him.

A dart from Wendy's gun hit Craig square in the throat. His eyes widened and he continued forward, but within a second his steps had become shambling and difficult. The gun fell from his suddenly nerveless fingers and he reached up to pull the missile from his skin – then he collapsed at her feet.

"Remember the list!" she shouted at the soldiers, hoping they could hear her over the sound of the gunfire, then strode off, searching out the targets. She was not the only soldier with a tranquilliser gun instead of a regular weapon, but she wanted to be the one to take down the majority of their quarry. She didn't really trust the others to do it right and she wanted it done before the idiots could kill them instead of capture them.

Of course, not all the Rebels were on the Must Capture list. They might as well shoot the others now.

Ike had been given a Remington 870 and remarkably, a single clip of ammunition for when it ran out of bullets. It wasn't going to be enough. Nothing was.

"Kyle, get under the control desk," he shouted as he took aim at the soldiers who had avoided Scott's spray of gunfire and the bullets of the other Rebels.

"Ike..."

"_NOW!"_

Kyle grabbed Stan's arm and the pair dived beneath the control panel, a small space littered with wires and dust. From their vantage point, they could see practically nothing of the action, but it did little to deaden the noise of the battle, overwhelming in the confined space of the Rebel base.

Standing beside Ike, Filmore had a weapon of his own, a handgun, but he had to drop one of his canes to use it and was finding it difficult to do much more than stand in place and fire.

"For crying out loud Filmore, get outta here!"

"Screw that," growled Filmore, hitting an approaching soldier in the leg and smiling. "How long have we been bitching about seeing some action?"

"This isn't a game!"

"I know." Filmore took aim at the downed soldier again, intending to hit him in the head and finish the job. Instead, the trigger clicked onto an empty barrel.

"Shit."

The soldier raised his own gun from his prone position on the floor and fired. The bullets hit Filmore in the stomach, sending most of his intestines flying out of his back. Filmore fell backward, hitting the control desk and sliding to the floor. A moment later, Ike sent a bullet of his own into the soldiers head before he was hit too.

"Dammit!" he growled, trying to fight rising bile and concentrate. He could mourn Filmore later, but Kyle was still under the control panel and the rest of the Rebels needed his help...

Something hit him in the back of the hand and he glanced down in surprise at the dart that suddenly seemed to be growing there. A moment later and the gun was too heavy for him to hold. He fumbled with it and then dropped it, sinking to his knees. From the corner of his eye, he saw the girl who seemed to be in charge of the soldiers calmly check her gun and turn away from him.

Then the world turned to black and there was nothing.

"_IKE!!"_

Kyle tried to scramble from their hiding place, attempting to get to his prone brother, but Stan grabbed hold of his arm.

"He's okay Kyle! Look, he's still breathing. There's no blood, he's not hit."

"I've got to get to him! He could be poisoned or shot where we can't see him or..."

"_No!"_ Stan used all his strength to yank Kyle back under the desk, which too a surprising amount of effort – Kyle was determined to get to Ike. "We can't do anything if we go out there!"

Waiting until Kyle stopped fighting against him, Stan reached out and grabbed Ike's wrist, pulling him partially under the desk where they hid. "He's unconscious, but he doesn't look hurt. He's safer over here."

Scott's weapon dry-fired and he dropped it, reaching behind him to grab another, ignoring the Kelly's who were being mercilessly mown down. He noticed that many of the soldiers being hit were only staying down with head shots and surmised that they had to be wearing body armour. It figured. Just another way to stack the odds against them.

And then his hand wrapped around the flame-thrower and all his thoughts about the safety of his allies and the closed quarters of the base left his head.

_Baby, yeah._

Leaping to his feet, he fired it up and ran at the line of enemy soldiers, ignoring Token's yell from behind him. With a maniacal grin, he swung the flame-thrower around in an arc, setting fire to the nearest soldiers and laughing as they panicked, running around in screaming circles and scattering anyone they went near.

"Scott, you dumb fuck! _Quit it_!"

The conditions may have been unsuitable for any explosives, but several of the soldiers were packing hand grenades in case of emergency. One of those soldiers was set on fire by Scott and as the flames licked over his body, they heated the explosives in his belt.

The resulting explosion took out four enemy soldiers and Scott himself, all blown apart by the force of the blast. The flame-thrower spun away, still spewing fire, landing on the floor beside the stockpiled weaponry and shooting flames over them.

Token's eyes widened as he realised the implications of the entire pile going sky-high and reversed his direction, heading back toward the weapons. Unfortunately for him, the soldiers had by this point shot many of the Kelly's and it was easy for them to see his actions. One of the soldiers bearing a tranquilliser gun took careful aim and shot a dart into his neck, rendering the teen unconscious seconds later.

Checking over the depleted Rebel forces, Wendy noticed the weapon situation and immediately knew things had just gotten very, very bad for everyone in the room. "RETREAT! Get the hell outta here!"

Professor Chaos, who had been battling with energy bolts instead of traditional weapons, noticed the situation at the same time as she did but checking on his troops, realised that retreat was not an option. Of the Resistance fighters, only Kenny, Pip, Mole and six Kelly's were still able to fight. Ike, Craig and Token were down, Tweek, Scott and Filmore were dead. Mephisto lay off to one side, the top of his head missing, although his hands still clenched and unclenched rhythmically. And Kyle and Stan were nowhere to be seen, but probably in hiding.

The Rebels would not escape in time.

Mind made up, Chaos hurried to the weapons pile, ignoring the soldiers attempting to shoot at him as they tried to flee the way they had come. Positioning himself between the weapons pile and the people who made up the Resistance, he grabbed the flame-thrower and switched it off.

A second later, the first over heated box of bullets began to explode, shooting shells with deadly force.

A grenade fortunately failed to fire properly, but still managed enough of a bang to blow the feet off a normal man. Professor Chaos was far from a normal man though, and he remained standing, using his titanium alloy cape to protect him as still more of the arsenal blew up around him, using his oversized body as a shield between himself and the other Rebels.

The grenade ignited another, which blew with far more power. The intensity of the explosion was added to by the amount of gunpowder in the weapons. Not all of them were triggered off – some had not been subject to the flames and several were either faulty or unaffected by the blast – but enough of them did. The entire Rebel base shook to its foundations, the ground above it rippling as if caught in an earthquake. The floor trembled, knocking soldiers and Rebels off their feet. Parts of the ceiling collapsed, computer equipment sparked and died, the heat of the blast singing hair and giving minor burns to several people standing too close.

The noise and heat seemed to last for a long time.

When the confusion finally died down, the only figure still on their feet was Professor Chaos, clothes blackened, skin blistered, coated in blood, swaying from side to side.

"Oh hambur..."

He collapsed to the ground, eyes closed.

The moment all noise from within the base ceased, Wendy ordered the soldiers back in, leading the way herself. No one was going to sneak out while everything was confused. Deciding to play it cautiously, she indicated for a silence she doubted would be necessary, since anyone who survived the explosion would still have ringing ears and poor hearing.

Tranquilliser gun at the ready, she slid against the entrance and looked inside. The first thing she saw was Professor Chaos, immobile on the floor. The second was Pip, obviously having been thrown to the floor by the force of the blast. Seeing her, he made a dive for the gun he had lost his grip on during the explosion. She fired a dart at him, gratified to see that in spite of the clumsy projectile she was still able to hit him in the shoulder, and continued to check around the base as he passed out, no longer a threat.

Seeing movement out of the corner of her eye, she flinched backward and narrowly avoided something smashing straight into her skull. The instrument hit the floor and she had time to realise it was a shovel before she looked up at the man wielding it. No one she knew, she realised, not someone on Cartman's list of those he wanted bringing in alive.

"Beetch!" he hissed and raised the weapon for another shot. But Wendy didn't need the momentum he did and only had to shoot him in the leg. The shovel continued upward and for a moment she was worried he might not be affected in time – then it fell to the floor, the man slumping to one side, out of the picture.

Some of the other soldiers entered the room, reassured by the pervading silence. Occasionally they would find someone they couldn't be immediately sure was dead, usually a Kelly, and put a bullet through their head.

Wendy took a few steps further into the room, ready to find their live targets and order them removed from the base. Also, she ought to check that Chaos was still breathing. If he had been killed by the explosion, Cartman would be seriously pissed off...

A figure burst from a pile of debris and tackled her around the waist. Taken by surprise, she fell backwards, lost her grip on the tranquilliser gun and had her breath knocked out by the attacker falling on her. Throwing her hand back in a futile attempt to catch her fall, her hand closed over the shovel the unknown man had dropped and she gripped it tightly, although there was no way for her to use it as long as her attacker still had a hold on her..

She didn't lose her cool, even as hands grabbed her upper arms. She was slammed to the floor, her head connecting painfully, and she just about had time to register cold blue eyes staring at her from a bloodied face before she jerked her head forward and her forehead connected with his nose. The grip loosened and she threw him off, scrambling to her feet with her hand upon the shovel.

She knew without looking that the soldiers were making their way toward her and she barked an order at them to halt, staring down at Kenny as he glared at her. He'd grabbed the gun he had earlier stuffed into his belt and had it trained on her.

"Give it up Kenny. It's over."

"Fuck you."

"Everyone else is down. Even if you shoot me, you've still lost."

"Maybe." Kenny grinned bitterly. "But _you _don't come back from the dead."

He pulled the trigger, which dry-clicked onto an empty barrel.

Instinctively flinching away from the bullet that never came, Wendy scowled and swung the shovel at Kenny's head, rendering him unconscious.

"You know the drill," she called out to the other soldiers. "Get the live ones secured and outta here. Leave the corpses. Leave the animals in their cages too, don't touch them! Once it's done, set a charge on the timer. I want this place collapsed, no evidence it was ever here."

Scowling to herself, she suddenly remembered something she should have thought of before, something that had been out of place at the time. Looking around the bodies, she didn't see anything unexpected but that didn't mean that there wasn't anything left to find.

And then she saw the small space beneath the now-trashed control panel and smiled. Retrieving her tranquilliser gun, she found more darts in her belt and reloaded as she walked over there. Debris had fallen in front of it and made it impossible for anyone to get in or out – but she could still see into the space. And behind the fallen body of one of the Rebels on her list were two pre-teen boys.

She raised her eyebrows quizzically as she studied them. There was no way they should have been there looking the way they did, but with Mephisto messing with cloning, it seemed likely that he had something to do with this. The first boy she recognised as Kyle Broflovski, on the missing list since the war began.

The second was his best friend and her childhood boyfriend Stan Marsh.

"My hero," she said dryly and poking the tranquilliser gun through the gap, shot the pair of them.

**&*&*&*&**

**Another Author Note: **Um... sorry? Heh, the story isn't over yet though! Wendy will be explaining her actions and reasoning in the next chapter (and thequillofdestiny correctly guessed that she'd show up on Cartman's side, which deserves cookies!). As an apology of sorts, I'll have a one-shot up tomorrow night that's far less gruesome and far more happy. Hope you'll look out for it!


	10. Chapter 10

**Author note: **Many thanks to thequillofdestiny for reviewing! And also, big thanks to xNao and xTweekTweakx for reviewing my recent Creek one-shot (damn, I was scared of posting that one and I'm glad people liked it!). This is the second-to-last chapter of the story, the final chapter is undergoing editing and it should only be a day or so before it's posted. I hope you all enjoy this installment!

A quick warning. A lot of violence and nastiness in this one. It's a war, buddy. I mean, war man. Wow. War. And now for my famous ping-pong ball trick! Seriously though, if you don't like seeing the characters suffer horribly, you might wanna give this a miss. It's more unpleasant than the last one.

**&*&*&*&*&**

Stan cracked an eye open, certain that the recollections he had of the previous few hours were some kind of dream. Surely it couldn't have been real. It seemed more likely that he'd hit his head while sledding and hallucinated the entire thing.

The only thing coming into view was what appeared to be a metallic wall that his head rested against, but he could feel himself seated on some kind of bench. He tried to shift his position, only for an unpleasant realisation to hit him; he could just about sit up but his hands were lodged firmly behind his back.

Coming fully awake, he opened his eyes wide and took in his surroundings. He was in a small space he immediately recognised as the back of an unmoving vehicle, but the two small windows in the rear doors were covered with what was no doubt bulletproof glass and wire mesh. An experimental twitch of his arms told him that not only were his wrists bound, most likely with handcuffs, but the cuffs were attached to the wall of the car, not allowing him to even stand. And had he been able to stand, he would have been hampered by the leg irons.

_I'm nine, _thought Stan irritably. _What do they think I'm gonna do if my legs are free, kick 'em in the balls, rip the cuffs off the wall and make a run for it?_

He wasn't alone in the van. Kyle sat at the end of the same bench he was sat on, with the same uncomfortable bonds, still unconscious. And opposite them was Ike, equally trapped but slightly more awake, rolling his shoulders in an attempt to massage some feeling into them.

Noticing Stan's movements, Ike raised an eyebrow at him. "I take it we lost."

Stan sighed, filling him in on what little he had been able to see from their hiding place. Kyle began to stir, eventually raising his own head and staring groggily at them.

"Welcome back to the land of the living bro," said Ike with a poor attempt at a comforting smile.

"We're being taken to Cartman," said Kyle bluntly. "We won't be in the land of the living for much longer. Damn, your girlfriend's a bitch Stan."

"We don't know for sure that everyone got taken down," said Ike.

"I don't think there were soldiers wandering casually around because anyone escaped," retorted Stan.

Ike sighed, shoulders slumping. "I guess not. We blew it."

"Hey," said Kyle, not knowing quite what to say. "At least you tried."

"We fucked it up," snapped Ike. "This was the last chance and we didn't even _get_ to the attack!"

There wasn't much else to say and neither of the younger boys thought it would help matters to point out the attack would most likely have failed. Instead, they lapsed into a morose silence.

The quiet lasted less than five minutes before the rear doors suddenly flew open. The three boys turned their heads immediately to see who was there, all partly expecting to be shot where they sat. Instead, they saw the familiar figure of Wendy, flanked by two soldiers. Wendy had the tranquilliser gun in her hand, not pointed into the vehicle but the grip suggested it was definitely an option. Both soldiers were empty-handed but each carried a sidearm.

"Hope you didn't mind the wait," she said, far too cheerful. "We thought it was a better idea to deal with the others first, since you're all smaller and the tranks effects would probably last longer."

"Why are _you _working for Cartman, Wendy?" snapped Kyle before anyone else had the chance to speak. "You always _hated_ the fatass!"

Wendy nodded. "Yeah, but I _knew_ him. As soon as the situation escalated, I knew he was going to win. If Eric was in charge of the country, then he was the only person who could make a difference to anything."

"So you're thinking that if you give him some gay little speech about human rights and making the world a better place, he'll make a good leader?" Kyle snorted. "What have you been smoking?"

Wendy scowled. "Cartman doesn't want to run a world plagued with problems!"

"He doesn't give a shit as long as he's doing okay!"

"Kyle," said Stan, leaning forward as much as the restraints would allow. "Tell Wendy I break up."

Closing her eyes, Wendy gave a frustrated noise. "You're a clone. We've never dated!"

"I'm not a clone!"

One of the soldiers cleared his throat and Wendy opened her eyes. "Let's get these kids out of here. I'm going to let you have your hands in front of you, but remember, there's nowhere for you to run and if you try anything, I'll just knock you out again and when you come to again, you'll be a lot more uncomfortable than you are right now."

Stan didn't actually see how such a thing was possible – his arms had gone dead and his shoulders were complaining at the strain – but he nodded his agreement to behave. Like she said, there wasn't anything that they could do to get away. The three of them allowed themselves to be released from the bonds behind their backs and have their hands cuffed in front of them without giving any trouble.

When they were taken from the vehicle, it turned out that they were parked in a garage filled with several identical trucks in various states of repair. There was a door at the far end, more soldiers guarding it, which they were hustled through.

"You're lucky," said Wendy as they walked. "Eric wanted most of the Resistance taken alive, or we'd have just blown up the bunker you were cowering in. And instead of locking you away, he's asked to see all of you in his office and he _never_ does that. I think he secretly admires you for taking a stand against him He'll probably make what's left of you some kind of offer."

"More likely he wants to gloat," growled Kyle.

"With the other countries on the verge of accepting Eric's vision, we'll be able to form a united front to make the world a better place," Wendy continued, ignoring Kyle completely. "No more war, no more fighting. We'll all be working together."

"You really believe it," marvelled Stan. "You really think he's going to do something that isn't just for his own benefit."

"He's forming a totalitarian society," added Kyle. "You used to be against that kind of thing!"

Ike shook his head at them. "How long have you been here Wendy?"

"I've been here since day one," she replied. "I was against Eric's idea at first, but you know, there's not many people who would be willing to do all this. Sometimes, it takes someone with long-term vision to take a stand."

Ike shot the younger boys a look that said, _hopelessly brainwashed._ Neither Kyle nor Stan were so sure. Wendy had always been resistant to following the crowd and been bright, inquisitive and unafraid of making a stand. Of course, with Wendy and Cartman's history, it was possible he took a special delight in having her on side and made damn sure she came around to his way of thinking. The only alternative was too depressing to consider; that she actually _trusted_ that Cartman was in the right.

"We're here," she said, indicating to a set of heavy double doors, guarded by five soldiers with enough firepower to make Scott Tennorman weep with envy, had he not already been deceased. The soldiers stood aside and Wendy pushed the doors open, leading the three boys into a large room that they recognised from the television broadcast earlier.

It was easily as big as the main control room in the Rebel Base, but far less functional. Most of the space was empty, save for three more soldiers and the sad remnants of the Resistance. Craig's expression was murderous, Token seemed bleak. The Mole had his eyes narrowed and his lower lip stuck out slightly, seeming somehow incomplete without his ever-present cigarette. Pip frowned slightly, as if solving a complicated math problem rather than prisoner in the face of their enemy. Kenny appeared dazed, dried blood crusted on his face and a bruise gaining colour on his left temple. Of Professor Chaos there was no sign.

In spite of their happiness at seeing their friends still alive and mostly unharmed, it was the figure seated behind the desk that took their attention.

Eric Cartman was still fat, in the soft, declining way that some men achieve when they spend more time eating than moving. Such men are usually downcast and downtrodden, a target for abuse and ridicule, keeping their heads down and eye contact to a terrified, rabbit-like glance. This wasn't true for Cartman however. His eyes were deceptively warm as he looked at them, the malevolent spark almost entirely hidden. He was clean-shaven, hair styled and clad in an expensive-looking suit that in normal circumstances would scream his success. In comparison to the ragged-looking Rebels, he was a study in intimidation.

For a few seconds he stared at Stan and Kyle, then looked over at Wendy. "It's just like you said Wendy. They _do_ look just like them."

His stare went back on the two boys and he smirked, eyebrows lowered. "But that's because – it _is_ you, isn't it?"

Kyle stepped forward and pointed at Cartman. "You had us frozen, fatass!" he yelled, trying to ignore just how high pitched his voice sounded against Cartman's adult speech.

Cartman threw back his head and laughed, the gesture all too familiar. "Oh! Is that what happened? Oh, that is just _too_ perfect!"

Stan frowned at him. "You didn't know?"

"I just wanted you out of the way while I got on with my plans. And I got what I asked for – and more! I didn't want you _back_, but I'm glad you are. Now you can see what I've achieved and you're too _little_ to stop me!"

"Fuck you," snapped Kyle, not knowing what else to say.

There was a commotion at the door as it opened again and two more soldiers came in, dragging Professor Chaos with them. They had an arm each and the Professor was so large that his knees scuffed along the thick carpet. He was making no move to help them and on closer inspection, it appeared that he was in no condition to.

The soldiers dumped Chaos on the floor in the corner of the room and the Rebels gave a collective gasp as they saw the state of him. None of them had been able to see him clearly after he took the brunt of the explosion at the base and it didn't appear that he was getting over it, as they had secretly hoped. The skin that they could see, on his arms and beneath his helmet, was burned and blistered. Blood still trickled sluggishly from innumerable wounds. His eyes were at half-mast, lips parted slightly to allow slow, shallow breaths.

"_Butters!"_ shouted Kyle and Stan simultaneously, running over to him. The other Rebels followed suit and briefly it looked as if the five soldiers in the room would stop them by force, the one closest to Chaos actually pulling his gun out.

"Don't," said Cartman tersely and the soldiers refrained from attacking, remaining on their guard.

As the other Rebels formed a loose semi-circle around him, Kenny knelt, pulling the Professors eyelid up and examining the pupil. "This is bullshit Cartman."

Cartman attempted to look injured. "Why, whatever do you mean Kenny?"

"I mean, you _can't_ kill Butters, not directly. It was one of his wishes, one of the ones he told me about – no one working for you can injure him. There's no way this can be happening. It's a trick."

"He's not even dead yet," said Cartman dismissively. "Anyway, the person who did that to Butters wasn't working for _me_. From what Wendy told me, Scott Tennorman set off the explosion that did that – and he was on your side."

"You _planned_ this." Kenny got to his feet and strode toward Cartman, clenching his fists, still trapped in front of him in cuffs. "You _planned_ this, you evil fucking..."

The three soldiers who had been in the room already all tackled Kenny at the same time, bringing him crashing to the floor. There was a tussle as Kenny refused to go down quietly. The remaining two soldiers, the ones who had brought Chaos to the room, watched closely.

"Don't kill him," snapped Cartman urgently, an order that struck the rest of the Rebels as strange since Cartman's soldiers had killed Kenny numerous times already. But there was no time to dwell on it – the Resistance had been working together long enough to know when one of their own had given them an opening and they would just have to hope that the Mole caught on to the situation in time.

Token put the cuffs restraining him to good use by dropping the chain over the neck of the soldier with his gun already out and choking him with it. Pip yanked the weapon from the man's grasp before he realised just what was going on. Turning, he spied Craig moving away from their little group and without stopping, threw the gun at him.

The Mole realised immediately what was going on and flew at the second soldier, grabbing him around the waist and taking him down a split-second too late. The soldier had freed his own gun and squeezed off a single shot before the Mole barrelled into him. The bullet hit Pip in the back, exiting through his chest and taking a good amount of the man's innards with it. Hearing the noise but unable to see what, if anything, had been hit, the Mole snarled and attempted to immobilise the soldier, who was using the gun to hit his assailant about the head and shoulders.

Craig caught the gun Pip had thrown to him at the same moment the British man was hit by the bullet. He had just chance to see his blue eyes go wide and shocked before turning toward the desk and taking off at a run. Pip had given his _life_ to get it and there was no way Craig was going to let the gesture be in vain. He had to trust that Kenny, Token and the Mole could keep the other soldiers from him for a few seconds more. He knew they couldn't go up against them any longer – but a few seconds should be all he needed.

A man with his hands cuffed in front of him has a surprising amount of freedom, something Craig would have thought Cartman would have taken into consideration. Still, he wasn't about to question his luck. Instead, he prepared the gun to fire as he wove his way toward the desk, hoping to make himself a more difficult target should any of the soldiers realise his intent. Cartman stood frozen, looking stunned by the turn of events.

Hearing a shot go off somewhere behind him, Craig _leapt_, his thigh hitting the highly polished desk and sliding forward in an almost sitting position, he raised the gun to point directly into Cartman's face.

And fired.

There was a meaty thud as Cartman hit the floor.

Everyone else in the room froze. One of the soldiers had continued trying to pin Kenny to the floor, but paused in his actions, not that there was any danger of Kenny moving since he too had ceased his struggles. The Mole had his hands on the weapon that had killed Pip, the barrel still gripped tightly by the soldier. Token was in the act of wrestling with two other soldiers and yet another of Cartman's troops stood on his own, gaping at the scene before him. In the corner, Ike, Kyle and Stan remained with Chaos, trying to keep out of the way. And in the far end of the room, Wendy still had her own gun raised, a puff of smoke from the barrel drifting lazily upward, the only evidence that she had shot at Craig – and missed by inches.

No one moved.

Craig took a deep breath, then another, trying to keep a grip on the gun with hands that had suddenly become sweaty. _Could it really be over?_ He asked himself wonderingly. _Could it really be that simple?_

"Vive la Resistance," he muttered in a voice that was little more than a croak.

Cartman rose from behind the desk like a malignant jack in the box, a gun of his own in his hand.

"Fuck la Resistance," he replied coldly, lifting his arm and shooting into Craig's jaw. The angle meant that the bullet exited through the top of his head, the velocity knocking his body back off the desk and sending it sprawling to the floor.

At the sight of their leader, the soldiers sprang back into action, finding it easy to overcome the remaining Rebels, who were in a state of shock after seeing Cartman apparently uninjured after a shot in the head, not to mention the sudden, devastating loss of two of their friends.

"I never liked Craig," commented Cartman, brushing off his suit. "Remind me to have words with the cleaning crew, it's dusty as hell under there."

"Impossible," whispered Kyle, taking no notice of Stan vomiting noisily beside him. "Im-fucking-possible."

"You made yourself invulnerable," growled Token. His head was held high, but there was an unmistakable note of defeat in his voice and a flat shine in his eyes that suggested tears were imminent. "That's why you didn't have much security, that's why you let us have our hands in front of us. You knew we'd try something and you wanted to _toy_ with us, you sick bastard."

Faking a look of sympathy, Cartman nodded. "Yeah, I'm hard to kill alright. I knew you couldn't do it, but I didn't want you to lose _all_ hope. Well, not right away."

The Mole scowled, clearly itching for a weapon so he could test just how invulnerable the fatass was. But with the soldiers back to full alert and the corpses on the floor a testament to the futility of any action, he remained quiet. Token seemed to have nothing left to add either.

"Mom didn't miss."

Cartman raised an eyebrow at Kenny. "What, when she tried to assassinate me? No. She didn't. She was the first person to get close to me in years. I was kinda concerned actually, since it was _your _mom – I thought it might affect things. Turned out it didn't make any difference."

"Why would it matter?"

Cartman rested his hands on the desk, looking pleased with himself. "I knew when I made my deal with the devil that asking for invulnerability or immortality is dangerous – Satan's been known to twist those kind of requests, so they have to be worded just right. And I wasn't going to take any chances. But you Kenny, _you're_ never dead for very long. You _always_ come back."

Realisation was dawning in Kenny's eyes. "You didn't Cartman. Tell me you didn't use _me_ to do this."

"Satan can't grant eternal life, you know that. So I just wished that I'd remain youthful, able-bodied and unhurt until the day _you_ died. For _ever_. So no one can kill me, unless they find a way to kill _you_ first. And make it last."

"You killed my _mom_ you turd," said Kenny in a voice so low it was difficult to hear. "You're saying you wouldn't have been able to, that you would have died and she wouldn't, if it wasn't for _me_?"

"I couldn't have done _any_ of this without you Kenny," said Cartman. "You know that. If you hadn't let slip why you were dying so much at that point, I wouldn't have been able to speak to Satan at all and I wouldn't be where I am now."

Kyle looked over at Kenny. "What's he talking about?"

Kenny stared down at the cuffs that joined his hands together. "I was pissed off, okay? Satan was having some problems with his latest boyfriend and every time they had a fight or something, Satan killed me off so he could _talk_ about it. I guess after the whole Saddam thing, he thought I could help him out."

Stan nodded. "You were dying like, every other day."

"Yeah. And it was getting annoying. I couldn't get on with my _own_ life because Satan was constantly making me have some accident. I was tired and pissed off and then Cartman commented on how much I was dying lately and I bitched about it to him for a while. I should have got suspicious when he _listened_."

Looking up, Kenny gazed at the remaining Rebels. "So he decided to tail me, dragging Butters along, I don't know why. For company? Huh, more likely just in case anything went wrong, right Cartman?"

"Right."

"And he didn't have to wait long before I got smooshed by a car, before I even got out of the damn _yard_. As soon as he knew Satan was hanging around to drag my soul down to hell for coffee and conversation, he went running up and started talking deals. I guess Satan wanted souls more than he wanted to get things straight with his latest man, because he went for it right away. Left me stuck in limbo while he materialised and made the deal."

Kyle shook his head, trying to take it in. "So, how did Butters end up selling _his_ soul too?"

Cartman straightened up, rubbing his knuckles together and doing a spitefully accurate impression of a nine year old Butters. "Oh _gee_ Eric, I don't think I oughtta let you do this Eric. Why, if you took over the world, it'd be a pretty bad place. Maybe I oughtta stop you. I don't care if I get grounded, I'm gonna make sure it doesn't happen!"

Laughing derisively, Cartman turned his attention to the corner where Professor Chaos still lay. "You didn't stop me Butters, too bad. Still, some of your wishes came true. By the way, whatever _did_ happen to your parents?"

The Rebels turned to see Professor Chaos had opened his eyes fully, blue orbs focused entirely on Cartman. In spite of the wounds and the terrible position they were in, he seemed calm, almost resigned.

"It's not Kenny's fault," he said in a voice a million miles from the imposing tones of Professor Chaos. In spite of the lack of volume and the raspiness, it was the voice Butters might have gained had he matured in the usual way. "It's yours."

"You don't sound too good Butters," said Cartman with mock solicitousness. "Maybe you should just accept that I won, give up and let yourself die."

Butters shook his head, a slight smile on his lips. "Six."

Eric blinked. "What?"

"Six wishes. I can't die... not until I use all seven. You know that."

"And I'm tired of waiting."

The voice came out of thin air and everyone looked up to the ceiling to search for the speaker, recognition in the faces of both Kenny and Cartman. The lights dimmed and the temperature in the room suddenly soared. A moment later, a pillar of flame burst from the centre of the room, a figure emerging from within.

Satan.

He had retained his oversized red form, but something had changed since the last time they had all seen him. Now he was all business, truly demonic to look at, evil and anger radiating off him in waves.

"This is the end boys," he said ominously, addressing Cartman and Butters. "Make your wishes and condemn your souls to the eternal torment I shall wreak upon them."

"I'm not ready..." whined Cartman.

"_WISH."_

The voice seemed to drill directly into the brains of those watching. Kyle and Stan clapped their hands over their ears, for all the good it did and Wendy's nose suddenly gushed blood. She raised her hand to stem it with a miserable cry.

"Fine then." Cartman smirked, in the perfectly familiar way he always did when he thought he had the advantage over another person. "I wish for... _world peace_."

"Who does he think he is," muttered Stan. "Miss America?"

Satan turned his yellow eyes onto the man and nodded once. The oversized television screen gave a static burst and came to life, displaying the 'ready to transmit' symbol favoured by the UN.

After a few seconds, the picture changed to show a grey-haired man sitting behind a desk, a window behind him and a deceptively cheery potted plant to his side. The Union Flag of Great Britain was prominent to his side, accompanied by the flags of other UN nations in a slightly less obvious placement.

"Ah," said Cartman, sudden nervousness in his voice. "Prime Minister."

"Mister Cartman." The Prime Minister was glaring daggers at the screen. "The UN has discussed your demands and I've been elected to act as their spokesperson. Um, is that Beelzebub behind you?"

"Keep going," said Cartman impatiently.

The Prime Minister sighed, fighting to spit the words out. "In order to protect the people under our care, the UN has voted to acquiesce to your demands. As of this moment, we hand sovereignty of our nations over to you. In return, we expect that your promises will be upheld – that no one shall be hurt and there shall be no nuclear incidents within any of our countries. May God have mercy on our souls. No offence Satan."

"None taken," said Satan in a more normal tone of voice, indicating to the screen, which went dark.

Turning to the assembled people, Satan gave a grin that was terrifying to behold. "There you have it Eric. World peace. One planet, under Cartman."

"Holy shit dude," said Kyle despondently.

"AY!" Cartman strode up to Satan, pointing a finger at him. "That wasn't what I asked for!"

Satan shrugged. "The world is no longer at war. You have achieved peace. What kind of peace is not for me to say. Your final wish has been granted – and your soul is _mine_."

"No it isn't!" snapped Cartman. "If I make one unselfish wish, then the contract is null and void! You don't get my soul!"

The devil began to chuckle, then guffaw. The sound grated on the nerve endings like nails along a chalkboard. "I never get tired of hearing that one. You have to make an _unselfish_ wish. By wishing for world peace, you weren't concerned about the world, you were concerned about _yourself_. What happens to everyone else is incidental as long as you don't go to hell. Which means your wish was completely selfish – and your soul is _mine_."

Cartman's mouth dropped open and he tried to speak, but words didn't come out. Satan smirked at him. "Well, it _will_ be mine. Eventually."

Kyle stared at him. "What do you mean?"

"Eric won't die, thanks to his earlier wish. He can't be killed until Kenny dies. For ever."

Everyone turned to look at Kenny, who returned their glances with a helpless desperation. Of all the deaths he'd suffered at the hands of accident, other people and nature, none of them had ever proven to be permanent. He had no more idea how to make his death last for ever than they did.

Satan crossed the room and loomed above Butters, who stared back at him with a calm stoicism. It was as if he had accepted the worst and there was nothing left that could scare him any more.

"Your turn Leopold," said Satan in an unusually gentle voice. "Choose."

"Butters!" Kenny raced across the room, dropping to his knees beside the slumped form of their former leader. "You have to wish for me to die, for good."

"Kenny, no!" yelled Stan.

"It's the only way," said Kenny determinedly. "Otherwise, Cartman will just go on living and without anything to hope for, he'll make things worse and worse and no one knows how long it'll be before we die – what if we don't have a normal lifespan, huh? What if I keep coming back for a hundred years, two hundred? You want Cartman to be in charge for that long?"

Butters turned his gaze to Kenny, a tired smile crossing his face. "I can't kill you for good Kenny."

Kenny made a fist and brought it down on his thigh in frustration. "You have to! You killed me not two days ago!"

"That wasn't for keeps."

"Professor Chaos would do it."

Butters gave a little laugh that turned into a gasp for air. "I was only ever pretending to be Chaos. I can see that now. Even when I thought I was in charge, doing something, it was only ever me, messing things up and making things worse. I got a lot of people killed because I didn't know what to do – I can't kill you too."

"If you don't, a lot more people are gonna die." Kenny took Butters hand, mindful of the injuries to it. "It's okay Butters. I don't mind. I'm asking you this one, last favour."

"It's a trick," said Ike suddenly.

Kyle glanced at his brother, seeing the stark fear on the boys face in the presence of Satan. Denouncing the demon was taking all of his courage. But fear didn't stop him.

"If Butters kills Kenny for good, then Satan gets everything all at once. Cartman's soul, Butter's soul. Kenny's gone for good – there must be some reason he keeps coming back and whatever that reason is, it's screwed up if he dies for ever _and Satan knows that_."

Satan turned his yellow eyes onto Ike and unthinking, Kyle stepped in front of his brother. Not that he was going to be any protection should Satan decide to silence him.

But Kenny ignored the interruption. "Butters, _please_. All the people who died to stop Cartman, if you don't do this, then that meant _nothing_. If he lives, then Craig and Pip won't be the last."

"_WISH."_

Again, Satan's voice drilled directly into the heads of the people in the room. The fallen angel began to grow, his head brushing the ceiling, his body filling out. The room temperature grew to unbearable levels, the television screen exploding outwards, the light bulbs bursting in their fittings. There were assorted screams and moans from the group as they covered their heads, waiting for the wrath of Satan to fall upon them.

And in the midst of it all, Butters smiled, his eyes slipping closed as he whispered his final request.

"_Butters, wait!"_

Kenny grabbed the man's shoulders as if to shake him to his senses, but it would have made no difference if he had – Butters had simply stopped breathing. His last wish had been spoken in his final exhalation.

Satan clenched his fists, eyes narrowing. A low growl started in his throat, deepening and growing in volume until everyone in the room dropped to their knees, hands to their heads in a futile attempt to block out the noise. Wind blew through the room, coming from nowhere and beating at the group, tearing their clothes and ripping pictures from the wall, overturning the desk with a heavy crash that was almost inaudible over the sound of Satan roaring.

"_NO!"_ Satan's voice tore through their brains, filled with furious anger. _"I will NOT be cheated! You WILL be mine!"_

Kyle narrowed his eyes against the onslaught of what felt like a minor hurricane in the middle of a wildfire. His ushanka stayed on his head by virtue of him hanging on to it, using the added protection to cover his ears. Through the flying debris, he could see Stan crouched on his knees, puffball hat long gone, hair being whipped around. His hands were crossed over on top of his head, as if to protect him from some heavy weight about to land on his head.

_Ike... where's Ike?_

Beneath the sound of the wind and destruction, he could hear people screaming, but he could make out no individual voices, couldn't tell who it was. He suspected he might be making some sound himself.

Satan kicked the volume up a notch, something Kyle would have thought impossible and he squeezed his eyes closed, covering his own head. He felt as if his brains might be about to burst, flow out of his ears and eyes, the strain of that voice was so unbearable. It was like being trapped in a furnace in a lunatic asylum and he had chance to wonder if this was what it would be like to be in hell, if Butters final wish had condemned them to this for all eternity...

And then he became aware of the wind dying down, becoming icy. His body temperature dropped rapidly and suddenly, all was quiet. There was only him, eyes shut, cowering and shivering in fear and cold.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author Note: **This is the epilogue of the story. I hope you enjoy it! Thanks to thequillofdestiny for reviewing the previous chapter!

**&*&*&*&**

For long seconds Kyle refused to open his eyes, afraid to see what the hell – possibly literally – was going on now. Instead, he tried to take stock without sight. The hurricane had died down, but there was still wind blowing against his face, cold instead of fiery, a hint of moisture in the air that had not been there moments before. The temperature was noticeably colder, his lungs no longer felt as if they would burst into flame from taking a breath. Most curiously, the ground beneath him seemed _wrong_. He had been on carpet; now it felt too soft and cold and damp. Almost like...

_Snow?_

Snapping his eyes open, Kyle looked around wildly. The room they had been in was gone. Instead, he was on the hill where they had been sledding that fateful day when he and Stan had been frozen. The outdoor air was cold, a promise of further snow that was all too common in South Park.

Satan was gone. _Everyone_ was gone. He was all alone.

Or maybe not. From the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of brown and red and getting to his feet, went over to investigate. Stan lay there, still huddled over from the onslaught that had been occurring only seconds before; or so it seemed.

"Stan!"

"Kyle?" Stan uncurled himself, opening his eyes and looking up. His hat was still missing, his hair in disarray. "Did I hit my head? I was just – I had the craziest..."

"Cartman. Satan. The Resistance." Kyle reached his hand out and helped Stan to his feet.

"That's right dude!" Stan looked around, spotting their trash can lids lying in the snow, as if waiting for them to continue their play. "How did we get here? Are we – dead or something?"

Kyle shook his head. "I don't know! I didn't see anything after Butters..."

"Look." Stan pointed over the hill. After being unfrozen, the skyline had offered only the sight of ruined shells of houses looming ominously in the dark. Now the sun was high, possibly mid-morning, and the houses were intact. The faint sounds of car engines reached their ears. Everything seemed perfectly normal.

Stan ran a hand through his hair, seeming distracted by the absence of his hat. "What's going on?"

Kyle shook his head slowly. "I've no idea. It wasn't like this when we were unfrozen."

"Yeah, everything was trashed." Stan perked up a little. "Do you think Butters used his wish to put everything back the way it was?"

"How would he do that? He'd have to start over before Cartman got his wishes and..." Kyle bit his lip, deep in thought. "Butters didn't want to kill Kenny. But there was no other way to stop Cartman, unless..."

"Unless he stopped him before he could start," finished Stan, widening his eyes. "Do you think...?"

"He wished us back!" Kyle began to pace. "Think about it; we were the only ones he could send back, we were the same age as back then – _now_ – and we know enough about what happened to stop him – we don't have much time! We don't know how long it'll be before Kenny gets killed and Cartman gets his wishes!"

Stan grabbed Kyle by the sleeve as the other boy turned to leave. "Wait! What if it was all some hallucination or something?"

"It could be – but I've seen a world rules by Cartman and I'm not taking the chance! Besides, look at us!"

Stan glanced down at his clothes, torn and dirtied, blood spatter on his coat, the whole ensemble smelling of smoke and brimstone. "Good point dude. Let's go find Kenny."

The pair of them raced down the hill, kicking up snow in their hurry. Skidding onto the street, they ran down the path that led to Kenny's house. The walk there might take them about ten minutes, they had to make it faster than that. As fast as possible, before anything could happen to their friend.

They cut through the parking lot of the supermarket, dodging to avoid a lone boy in a blue hat, the same age as them, playing with an RC car. They didn't need to look behind them to know he was giving them the finger as they retreated, but they managed to exchange grins as they continued their journey.

Out of the car park, down another street. They turned a corner, nearly colliding with another pedestrian as they did so, spying the train tracks up ahead that signified the start of Kenny's part of town. His house was in reach.

On the side of the road opposite Kenny's house, Kyle saw movement. Two figures, one in a red jacket, the other wearing blue, both striving to remain hidden from view.

Racing across the train tracks without bothering to look for danger, they went full steam toward the house. As they did so, a pick up truck turned into the street at the other end, the driver engrossed in his cell phone conversation. At the same time, the door to Kenny's house opened and a boy stepped out, orange parka zipped up against the cold so only his eyes were showing. Slamming the door behind him, he started toward the road.

_He didn't have to wait long before I got smooshed by a car, before I even got out of the damn yard..._

Kyle yelled, but Stan didn't waste his breath. Remembering what Kenny had said, he put on a final burst of speed with the last of his energy. Kenny looked up, startled, as the car swerved to avoid a cat, mounting the curb and heading straight for the McCormick's yard. Stan barrelled into Kenny, tackling the smaller boy and sending them both flying in a tangle of arms and legs. The pick up crashed through the toys and garbage that were strewn in front of the house, missing the two boys by mere feet before the driver got back under control and continued on his way.

"Oh, thank God," gasped Kyle as he jogged up to them. "You saved Kenny."

"You bastards!"

Stan and Kenny disentangled themselves and sat up as a figure emerged from the trees opposite and strode toward them. A wave of unreality washed over both Stan and Kyle; seeing Eric Cartman as his nine year old self instead of the all-powerful, indestructible dictator he had been was strange. As their captor he had been intimidating, now he was reduced to his youth he was back to being the same kid they knew and loathed, seemingly on the verge of a temper tantrum.

A second figure trailed behind him and _that_ just added to the strangeness. Butters rubbed his knuckles together, looking as apologetic and nervous as always. Slightly small for his age, wimpy, ridiculed, harassed, Butters was nothing special and he knew it. Small wonder that someone like that would want to be the intimidating, feared Professor Chaos. Although right there and then, the only thing he looked like he wanted to be was somewhere else.

Ignoring Cartman's anger and Kenny's muffled questions, Stan scrambled to his feet and looked around. There was no sign that there was anyone around but the five of them – and yet, Kenny's older self had clearly said that Satan had been hanging around, waiting for Kenny to die so that he could bitch about his love life.

_Relationships lead to all the major problems,_ reflected Stan, unwittingly stumbling on one of life's little truisms. Wondering again if he had bashed his head while going down the hill – Kenny's imminent death wasn't exactly an oddity after all – he opened his mouth and shouted.

"_Satan!_ We need to talk to you!"

"AY!" Cartman stormed up to Stan and jabbed a finger at him. "You stole my idea! You stole my idea! Kenny, you poor piece of crap, you told me you hadn't told them!"

Kenny insisted that Cartman was the only person he had told about Satan's recent need for long, involved conversation, sounding surprised himself, but Cartman remained unconvinced.

Neither Stan nor Kyle paid any attention tot he exchange, both watching for any change in the atmosphere. At first, there seemed to be nothing. The air was still cold, the day bright, the slightest whiff of brimstone in the air...

Registering the last one, both boys took a few steps backwards just in time as a column of flame spewed from the ground and Satan emerged from the middle of it. No longer the terrifying presence he had been when demanding the souls he had been promised, instead he appeared before them as he usually did, gigantic and red, but affable and approachable. It was hard to fear him when he acted that way – but Kyle and Stan had seen his other side not long earlier and remained wary. It suited Satan to be non-threatening, right up until the moment when he could safely reveal his ugly side.

With a roll of his eyes, Kenny asked why Satan always had to appear out of a column of fire.

"It's for appearances sake," replied Satan. "Hello boys. Oh Butters, Biggie says hi."

"Well, y-you just tell him hi right back!"

"Alright, that does it!" Cartman glared at the other boys ferociously. "This was _my_ idea and you aren't getting to it first! I'm gonna make this deal!"

"No way Cartman!" retorted Stan. "We're not gonna let you!"

"What_eva_! I do what..."

Before he could say another word, Kyle ran up to him and kicked him square in the nuts.

Cartman's breath left him in a whoosh, his hands crept to cradle his wounded sack and then he collapsed onto his side, groaning in pain.

Satan blinked. "What was he about to say?"

Stan ignored the question. "Satan, you've gotta stop killing Kenny whenever you want a shoulder to cry on."

Satan's eyes flashed and his lips parted into what was not quite a snarl. "And who are you to demand that of me?"

"We're his friends!" Stan took a deep breath. He hadn't actually planned this far ahead what he would say. "You see, I've learned something today. Sometimes it's easy to exploit people to get what you want. Whether you do it deliberately or not, it always leads to big trouble. I know it seems like your problems are the most important thing in the world, but when you kill Kenny just so you have someone to talk to, you're affecting his life too. He can't get on with things because he's too busy dealing with your crap. And..." Stan shot a black look at Cartman's still-groaning form. "You're setting the precedent for _other_ people to exploit him too."

"You've got to stop talking about your problems and actually do something about them," added Kyle. "Bitching about it like a girl isn't going to make things any better. You have to make a decision and live with the consequences. Otherwise, you're just being a pussy."

For a moment it looked as if they might have gone too far. Satan's eyes glowed with inner rage and they shrank back, hoping to avoid the anticipated fireball – then the devils shoulders sagged and he let out a sigh.

"You're right," he admitted. "I'm not happy with the way things are, but I'm worried that whatever I do, I'll just make things worse. It's not fair to complain to people when I'm not willing to change."

"Right," said Stan. "Besides, why would you want Kenny's advice? He's only nine. Everything he knows about adult relationships he got out of Playboy."

"I could have a word with Freud I guess," said Satan thoughtfully. "I could ask him about it at the luau, if I get to him before his fourth daiquiri."

Kyle nodded. "In your situation, I'd say psychiatric help is a good idea."

Satan smiled. "Thank you boys, you've really put things into perspective. If there's anything I can do for you..."

Cartman managed to sit up, opening his mouth to make a suggestion. Before he could speak, Kyle fetched him another kick in the balls.

"There's nothing we need you to do," he said, smiling sweetly as Cartman rolled on the ground.

"We'd prefer it if you _didn't_ do anything for us," added Stan.

Satan looked confused. "Well, okay then. Kenny, I'll stop killing you just to complain about my problems."

Kenny muttered his thanks in a relieved tone.

"But if I need to call you...?"

Rolling his eyes, Kenny nodded, agreeing on the understanding the contact was over the phone rather than in the afterlife.

"I'd best be returning to hell then," said Satan, seeming more cheerful than he had been previously. "Goodbye boys!"

"Bye Satan!" chorused all of the boys, save for Cartman who was still trying to catch his breath enough to curse Kyle out.

Satan vanished in a pillar of flames and Stan sighed. "I'm sure glad that's over."

"Me too," agreed Kyle.

"Do you think everything's really changed back to normal?"

"Well, we're still here," said Kyle. "And Chaos sending us back to stop the deal means everyone who would have died is back to life and it even gives Cartman the chance to avoid going to hell. I'd say that was the really unselfish wish."

Kenny and Butters stared at them uncomprehendingly. Before either Kyle or Stan could fill them in on what had happened, Kenny held up a hand and informed them he really didn't want to know.

"I think I'm gonna go home," said Kyle. "Hang out with Ike and my parents for a while."

"Me too," agreed Stan, thinking of the family he had thought lost with affection. "Although I might get more quality time than I wanted. When my mom sees the state of me, I'll be grounded for a week!"

"Just long enough for us to get sick of them," said Kyle, sounding happier than he should have done at the prospect of an immanent grounding. "See you later Kenny."

"Later Kenny, later Butters," added Stan as the pair headed off towards their own side of the town.

Butters thought for a moment, then put the entire conversation out of his mind. Bizarre occurrences and Satan popping up for a quick chat were all part of growing up in South Park and he had long since stopped trying to make sense of it all. "Hey Kenny, since you're not dead, you, uh, wanna go play cars in the sandpit?"

Before Kenny could reply, a buzzing noise sounded in his jacket pocket. Butters frowned. "Hey, uh, I didn't know you had a cell."

Puzzled, Kenny replied that he didn't, reaching into the pocket and pulling out the phone that had mysteriously appeared there. Pressing the button to stop it buzzing, he noticed he had a single text message.

_Now I can talk to you without killing you all the time! S._

With a sigh, Kenny shoved the phone back in his pocket. Somewhere between God-sent games consoles and satanic cells, he was building up quite the collection of high-tech toys. Still, it was a top of the line phone and Cartman would be begging his mother for a better one for _weeks_.

At least he wasn't dead today, even if the only person he had to hang out with was Butters. The sandpit sounded kinda fun though, so he voiced his agreement, heading off in the direction of the park.

"Oh wait!" Butters paused on the verge of Kenny's front yard. "I just gotta do one thing."

Turning, Butters ran back over to Cartman, who was still lying on the ground whimpering. Bringing his foot back, he booted Cartman in the nuts and giggled before skipping back over to Kenny, who was watching the display in surprise.

"Well, it sure sounded like he did something bad," said Butters solemnly as he caught Kenny's look. "He probably deserves it."

Continuing down the street with Butters, leaving Cartman writhing in pain far behind them, Kenny mused that maybe Butters wasn't the pussy everyone thought he was.

**THE END!**

**Long, Rambling Authors Note: **Well, the story is finally done with – I hope you liked reading it. I certainly had a lot of fun writing it! I'm not sure what my next story will be about, since I have two things in planning but not ready to see the light of day yet, but I hope you'll check out anything I do write in the future. Let me know how you enjoyed this one – reviews are loved and criticism makes me determined to do better next time. I rewrote this last chapter about four times, so I'm obviously a little anxious about it.

Big thanks go to Call Me Blue Streak for coming up with the challenge idea in the first place and allowing me to run with it. And thanks to thequillofdestiny, Loozje, Saundersfamily007 and Kristy26 for the reviews.

Much Love!


End file.
